Mysteerie Manor

by Sharon Hays

  Maryanne had been gone now for over a week, and they all knew the longer it took to find a victim, the less chance there was of the victim’s survival. Mario was in high gear, trying to get the case moving. After the visit to Valencia Manor, he was convinced someone was in the house, and he had to find out where the intruder entered. With the new discoveries and information, Mario felt more positive of quick results.

  28

  The funeral for Mrs. Dirkshire was at the Methodist Church in Lyons, and everyone in Lyons who had ever known her was there. The chief, Joan, Mario, and a few of the officers showed up as well. She was a very respected and loved woman. Many people would miss her greatly. They would find the person responsible, and hopefully soon, since Sheriff Baxter always insisted on a speedy investigation. He had always been known for getting his man, and usually in a very quick turnaround.

  Sheriff Baxter called Chief Olson and informed him of new information concerning fingerprinting and DNA with the Dirkshire murder that had come to light. He made plans to come to Boulder. Mario and the chief would spend time with Sam putting the puzzle together with the help of both departments working as one. Harold Arnold would soon be arrested; they had a fix on him and were getting the paperwork in order, to haul him in. Detective Corolla was, meanwhile, working on evidence and paperwork and planned to set up a meeting later at the station.

  Joan had searched through the copies of newspaper articles Mario had left with her. That information, along with the legal documents she had received from Mrs. Dirkshire, were beginning to weave a web of intrigue and surprise that connected the dots of this mysterious enigma. She laid out a strategy from her perspective concerning the original owners and the current status of relatives and heirs. The results made absolute sense. The only person missing was the daughter of the Farthingtons, Edwina Rafael. Joan had tried endlessly with searches on the Internet, police networking with the help of Mario’s connections and the library, but nothing came up. She had documents for the birth of their daughter, but no death certificate or information of any kind to determine where Edwina was, or if she was in fact, alive. This part of the puzzle was bewildering. Why would someone completely disappear from the radar, unless there was something in the family background that had been unsettling and she wanted to disconnect herself from the family? Or perhaps something more sinister could be in the mix.

  According to Joan’s calculations, Farthington’s second daughter should be between forty-one and forty-two years old. She had not found a Social Security number in any of the information, but there was a Birth Certificate, so she knew there must be a way to find out. Joan would continue to search until she was satisfied with results.

  Maryanne appeared to Joan in a dream that night. She could see Maryanne locked in a dark and damp cell. Light was streaming in from a place above her, and it clearly revealed a sad, defeated woman covered with dirt and grime. Dark circles had formed under her emotionless eyes, and she looked malnourished and weak.

  Joan woke to her usual six a.m. alarm, ending the dream and felt very depressed. She felt a strange message was coming through from Maryanne, asking for help. Joan was quite disturbed by the dream. She immediately climbed out of bed, trying to recollect the vision and maybe some unforeseen answers to her whereabouts.

  Her phone rang, and she picked it up quickly, before a second ring. “Yes, this is Joan. Can I help you?”

  “It’s Mario, Joan. I’m checking in to see if any of your research has information that could add to new developments in the case.”

  “I did spin some things together yesterday and would like to have you go through it with me. I just woke up from a terrifying dream of Maryanne, and I have a gut feeling she’s reaching out somehow, trying to let me know where she is. I am not too superstitious, but do believe in intuition. There could be a clue or something in the dream to help find her whereabouts. Please come by, and I’ll tell you about it, Mario.”

  “I’ve got an hour or so to spare this afternoon around one. Will that be a good time?”

  “Perfect. I’ll finish meeting my clients and make a few calls, meantime. See you at one sharp.” Joan was anxious to share her findings and get some feedback. She felt a breakthrough was inevitable today. She returned to the office, and her client showed up at eleven. She completed another listing, made all of her calls, and started a pot of coffee by the time Mario strolled into her office.

  “I’m back with more. Mario came in waving a handful of paperwork in the air. “Got some new information and I’m dying for a cup of that awesome coffee of yours!” In his other hand, he had a bag from the Bagel Shop and placed it on the table. “I brought lunch, too. Brought you the turkey veggie bagel I know you’ll like.” Opening the bag, he took out the bagels, and she placed two small plates for the sandwiches on the desk. She brought in a plate of mixed fruit and poured the coffee.

  “I’m starving! You are a doll, Mario. Sit down, and I’ll fill you in while we eat.” “Good coffee, Joan. I needed that. Lets dig in; I have a lot to tell you.”

  They sat eating, drinking, and rambling on about everything from beginning to end. She described the cavern like room in her dream and the sounds, rats and dripping water. Joan thought the room had to be underground, possibly underneath the Manor.

  “You know Joan; you should have been a detective. I am serious; you are something else when it comes to digging up facts…literally.”

  Joan shook her head and laughed, “Okay Mario, I get it!” She took the last bite of her sandwich.

  Mario stood up and gathered his papers from the table. “With what we have, I think we should be able to get enough to arrest Harold Arnold first thing tomorrow. Forensics has done some DNA and fingerprinting for me. They have placed Harold at the Dirkshire murder scene with prints, so I think by tomorrow he will be in custody. I can’t wait to interrogate him. That should be the big breakthrough, at least for the Dirkshire case. As far as the Valencia, there are still a few problems with the DNA and prints. We’re not sure whether one person has perpetrated all of the crimes, or if there is more than one and they aren’t even connected. The break-in at your house is way out of character for what we have going. I am beginning to think it’s a completely different individual. We have prints with no match and DNA the same. There is definitely someone else involved in Maryanne’s disappearance, too. Oh damn it, Joan, it’s getting late and I have to run. I have a meeting with Sheriff Baxter and Chief Olson. That should be the key to tying it altogether. I will get you the info as soon as it passes to me. I already cleared it with the chief. He knows you will keep this under your hat until we are done. You have been a great help to us, and thanks again.” Mario gave Joan a quick hug and left for the station.

  29

  Mario’s cell buzzed and he hit the button using his Bluetooth connection. “Detective Ramos, you’ll never believe what’s happened! Mrs. Brindle called in a 911, and by the time we arrived, we found her bruised, dead body at the bottom of her basement stairs. From all indications, it looks like she fell. Her cane was at the top of the staircase. Looks like she lost her balance and fell all the way to the bottom. Must be at least twelve stairs. Concrete floor where she landed. Covered in blood.” Chief Olson detailed the unfortunate accident, but Mario wasn’t sure about buying the accident theory.

  “Damn it! I was just there, not long ago. I’ll go over there right now, Chief. I need to check a few things out before we make any hasty conclusions here.” He was out the door within two minutes and pulled up to Irma Brindle’s home where three squad cars, an ambulance, a fire truck, and a forensics van were scattered all around the house. Yellow tape surrounded the small, older home.

  Mario approached Officer Pantella and Detective Griffin from DNA and forensics. “You really think this was an accident?”

  “It appears that way, but appearances can be deceiving,” Griffin commented. “Come on in, I want to show you something.”

  He directed Detective Ramos down the stairs where the
woman had landed. The house had already been cleared for prints, DNA, and evidence. “Look at her wrists, Ramos. One of them clearly has handprints where it was bruised, as if someone held on to her wrist hard. She was old and delicate. This is definitely no accident; I don’t care what the chief thinks. I’ll have my team do a thorough job on the body when we get her down to forensics. I guarantee you by tomorrow, I’ll have evidence for a possible homicide.”

  “I just interviewed Mrs. Brindle today! What the hell is happening here? I had officers there within fifteen minutes of the call, damn it! How the hell did they get in there that quick? I knew someone had been in her house. She explained about how things were coming up missing in there for a few months. Food and other miscellaneous items started disappearing. Her daughter and son thought she was losing’ it and threatened to put her into a retirement home. Well, one thing is for sure, she would rather be where she is now than an old folks’ home. She was adamant about that.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Mario. We do what we think is right at the time, and sometimes it just isn’t enough.”

  Mario left, and the investigative team would finish their work. On the way home, he filled Joan in on the gruesome details. She appreciated the time he took to inform her of their progress. She tried to convince Mario there was more to the activity than just chance.

  “Mario, I am telling you there is a poltergeist in the Valencia! Everything’s in disarray. It’s not natural to have these weird things occurring constantly in that place and everyone connected to it.” She hesitated and took in a deep breath. “I want to run something by you. Maryanne told me about an Italian Priest she knows of, who performs exorcisms, cleansings and blessings of homes where people have claimed to have evil spirits or ghosts appearing. There is an article in the paper this morning about him being here and in Denver for a couple of weeks. He has quite a reputation for success in cases he has worked on in Denver and other cities. His name is Father Martucci. He is from Sicily, where the Bonicellis are originally from. What do you think about contacting him? I know it’s a long shot, but what have we got to lose at this point in time?”

  “I don’t know. The chief probably won’t go for it; he’s a little skeptical about that kind of stuff. I’ll run it by him, though. He’ll just laugh at me and tell me I’m losing it. I can just hear him now.”

  “Well, I’m going to call the Catholic Diocese in Denver and find out if I would be able to speak to him, anyway. Even if the chief doesn’t agree, I may find something that will convince him to let us try blessing the house or doing some kind of incantation ritual to rid the house of evil,” Joan concluded.

  “If you think it’s worth a try, go ahead. Can’t hurt to ask. I’ll talk to you later on. Let me know if you talk to the head of the Church in Denver. Find out when he’s coming over here. I have to go, Joan. A call is coming in. Click. Mario returned to the station with many questions for the chief.

  Walking into Chief Olson’s office made him a little nervous this time. He would have to disagree with the Chief’s conclusion and present him with some new views on where to take the investigation. The chief didn’t like anyone to question his conclusions, but Mario felt this deserved some consideration, anyway.

  He knocked on the door and entered. “Hi Chief, can I talk to you about the Brindle case for a few minutes, if you aren’t too busy?”

  “Sure, come on in Ramos. You have that look on your face again, like you know something I don’t.” He grinned. “Sit down. How about coffee? Just made some. I’ll have them bring an extra cup.”

  “Sure Chief, I could use a cup. It has been a trying day. This Irma Brindle thing has got me riled up. I have been in contact with the other detectives and officers working on the case. I know you and the team had figured it to be an accident, but I was there today, and my gut tells me someone may have killed her.” He filled the chief in on the details of the meeting with Mrs. Brindle and the strange things she had encountered in the last couple of months. When Mario was done filling him in, Chief Olson had a change of theory about the case and agreed it should be looked into further. They needed to verify and collaborate all of the collective information. When they tallied it all up, a conclusion should be imminent.

  “I hadn’t heard the gist of your meeting with her until now, so that does take this into a couple of different directions. We’ll get on this right away, and I’ll instruct the team on what to do. I appreciate your intuition and good investigative work, Mario. You are a good detective and always-on top of your game. Thanks for the update, and I’ll be in touch right away. Go home now and get some sleep, you’re gonna need it. I have a feeling the next few days are going to be some long ones.”

  30

  The Valencia Manor was one of the first places Mario wanted to see on the way home. A little apprehensive about entering, he edged alongside the curb and stopped. He was intense and nervous as he looked up at the aging edifice. He took out his notepad and pen, jotted down a few things he had on his agenda, and then decided to go home to get some well-earned sleep. He planned to come back to the Manor at five in the morning, when it was still dark, so he could work alone for an hour or so. He always did his best work when he had no interruption. After he arrived home, he lay on the sofa, where he had spent a lot of nights recently and turned on the news channel. He dozed off quickly and slept very well. When the alarm woke him, he felt very well rested. Eager and ready to go by four thirty a.m., he headed for the Java Joint, which was just opening. He picked up a Double Whammy, drove to the Valencia, and parked in front. After a few more sips of coffee, he went to the entrance of the deserted manor. Mario’s cell rang. “Hello. It’s Joan. Tried you at home, but you had already left. Are you busy?”

  “Actually, I am at the Valencia, about to go in.”

  “Be careful, Mario.”

  “Yeah thanks. I know the drill,” he chided.

  “To let you know, I talked to Father Martucci last night. He is willing to come to the Valencia with us next Monday. He’ll be in town for five days. I told him to plan on it. Did I go too far?”

  “Well, it’s pretty gutsy, but we’ll deal with the chief one way or the other. I think it’ll be fine. Keep this quiet; we wouldn’t want the city officials to get in an uproar about it. I’ll call you when I’m done here.” Mario clicked off his cell and opened the door with the new keys Chief Olson had given him.

  The sky was dark and gloomy with low riding clouds. As he walked inside, he heard the scurrying of what he presumed were rodents of some kind. Probably rats. The stench would definitely meet the criteria. He turned on his lantern, sat it on a table near the door, and flipped on the flashlight. The familiar crying sound they had heard previously was in the distant background again, but louder. He followed the sound, hoping to find its origination.

  As he neared the back of the house, it became more audible. He was positive it was a child crying. Then just as quickly as it started, it stopped. He knew the cry was not that of a baby, but more like a young adult or older child. So far, this was the clearest he had heard it. As he walked toward the staircase, dead silence engulfed the manor, and then upstairs a loud banging noise shot through the darkness, sending chills through him. He pointed the flashlight up at the balcony and quickly ran to the stairs, carefully ascending to the top landing. Shining the light toward the end of the balcony, he saw a figure dart into the last room on the right. The door closed, and he rushed toward the room, revolver ready and waiting. He turned the handle. It wouldn’t budge. He slipped the skeleton key easily into the keyhole, and it clicked. He opened the door, his .38 caliber in hand, holding the light into the room. The dark clouds outside set the stage for an eerie, numinous night. The window was slightly open, offering a slight breeze, moving the sheer tattered curtain like an ethereal spirit swaying side to side. Turning to the closet, he checked inside with no signs of anyone. He was certain he saw someone enter the room, but his search was fruitless. The next room was at least fifteen fe
et away. He proceeded to the room and it was open. He entered cautiously, knowing anything could happen at any given moment. At the rate things were happening in the last few visits, he was ready for anything.

  He had the feeling the house had taken on a life of its own, as if it were in another dimension, as if two separate worlds existed, side by side. One was certainly not visible to the average person, but only a breath apart. An uncanny awareness took over, enveloping him with an unusual sensation that went through him like a cold winter chill. He began shaking uncontrollably, dropping his flashlight, but managed to hang onto his weapon. The flashlight was dark. He felt around the floor, trying to recover it, crawling around on his knees with no success. He stood up and began sliding his feet across the floor in sweeping motions, trying to locate the light, to no avail.

  Frustrated and somewhat apprehensive, he knew it was time to leave this room. It had an odd, ethereal presence, and it became very clear that someone or something did not want him here. He backed out of the room and carefully walked down the balcony toward the staircase, hanging onto the railing for extra guidance in the pitch-black house. Even though it was time for the day to begin, Mario knew the sun would have little chance to shine as dark, gloomy clouds had stolen in, bringing a thunderstorm of significant volume. Mario reached the landing and hurried down the staircase, anxious to leave. When he approached the front door, the lantern which he had left on the small table was gone. Again, the presence of evil was overwhelming and he left quickly, locking the doors behind him. He hurried to his car. Evading the house from hell, he thought.