The Haunting of Bechdel Mansion: A Haunted House Mystery- Book 2

by Roger Hayden

  “I’m not calling her,” Curtis said, defiantly. “So I guess you’re going to have to shoot me.” He briefly glimpsed rage on Bob’s reddened face before it subsided as he smiled instead in a slightly menacing way.

  “A proud man to the end. Careful now, Curtis. Pride before the fall.”

  “Why us?” Curtis said. “You could have gotten plenty of others into that house.”

  “You seemed like a nice couple,” Bob said. “The mayor vetted you personally and gave the green light.”

  “Vetted? Green light? What is your relationship with the mayor, anyway?” Curtis asked with near contempt. “Do you work for him? Did he pay you to murder Pastor Phil?”

  Bob suddenly vaulted up out of his chair and slammed his fist on the table, taking Curtis by surprise. “Where the hell do you get off asking questions like that?” he shouted. “You come to our town and think that you know everything?” He paused, leaning forward, his eyes narrowed in disgust. “You’re nothing but outsiders here, Curtis, so I’d watch yourself. Now call your wife before I really start to get pissed.”

  Curtis knew he had no choice and pulled his cell phone out from his side pocket, holding it up. “If I call her, the only thing I’m going to tell her is to call the police, so you can drop that shit right now.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket, hoping Bob wouldn’t demand turning it over. If he got the chance, he could call 9-1-1.

  Bob exhaled loudly and stretched his neck, as though deciding what to do about Curtis’s threat. He slowly moved back from the desk and made his way around to Curtis, pressing the pistol against his temple, causing him to flinch.

  “I’m not in the mood for games,” he said. “I could shoot you right here and find your wife myself. So, by all means, keep being difficult.”

  Without warning, Curtis grabbed Bob’s arm, gripping him by the wrist, and jumped up, ready to charge him. The pistol fired a deafening blast into the air, shattering the glass of Bob’s office window.

  Bob slammed against his desk and tried to regain his balance as Curtis charged toward him, but Bob, still holding the gun, drew his arm back and smashed Curtis in the face with the thick metal barrel of the hot pistol. Another white flash and Curtis was on his knees, dazed and face throbbing.

  “You crazy son of a bitch!” Bob shouted. “You trying to get shot?”

  Curtis looked up, ready to launch into his adversary, but Bob was too quick. He brought the handle of his pistol down in one swift crack against Curtis’s skull. As Curtis collapsed, part of him wondered why Bob didn’t just shoot him. His head throbbed with pain and he expected another blow as he struggled to stand, but couldn’t. He felt the heel of Bob’s shoe kicking him in the ribs. He was fast losing consciousness, and there was nothing he could do but drift into the darkness, in a moment of peace.

  ***

  Mary lay low, peeking under the bed, with Theo breathing heavily next to her with the stolen.45 caliber pistol in-hand. The Taylor brothers were inside, fired up and searching for them. One of the men was taunting, calling: “Come out, little kitty. Nice little kitty. Nobody’s going to hurt you. We just want to say hello.”

  She tried to keep her body still. Theo lay on his side, his arm extended under the bed, pistol aimed. Footsteps sounded on the wood floors from all around the house. Escape seemed impossible. Even if they made it outside and into the SUV, the Taylors would most likely follow them wherever they went, even if they did get away, which wasn’t likely. No, that wouldn’t do. Their best bet would be to flee the house and escape on foot.

  “Where are they?” she heard one of the Taylors shout. “Search every last inch of this house!”

  “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  There were only so many rooms in the house, and Mary knew it to be only a matter of time before they were discovered.

  “What do we do?” she whispered to Theo as footsteps clomped around upstairs.

  His head turned toward her slightly as he gripped the pistol, holding it up. “We try to escape, but in the meantime, be ready for anything.”

  The thought of being in the middle of a firefight terrified her, but it would seem that they had little choice but to defend themselves. Would the Taylor brothers really shoot upon finding them? Were they really the murderers she thought them to be? Perhaps the entire thing was one big misunderstanding. However, as their voices carried down the hall, she concluded they were very much capable of what she feared.

  “You find ‘em, don’t hesitate to put ‘em down,” one of the Taylors said in a quiet voice, coming from right outside the room. “But leave one alive so we can find out what they’re doing nosing around here.”

  Mary heard the door to the room they were hiding in creak open wider as she lay on her chest, hoping to remain concealed.

  This is it, Mary thought with a shudder. They’re going to find us, and they’re going to kill us.

  Not going to happen, she heard Theo say, but he hadn’t actually spoken. For the first time, she could actually hear his thoughts. It was a revelation.

  Mary, listen to me. We’re going to be okay, he continued.

  Oh my God. You can actually hear my thoughts? she said. And I can hear yours?

  Your abilities are getting stronger. A man is getting closer—I can see him. I want you to shield your face and cover your ears. Then we run.

  Okay, she said as her body trembled with anticipation.

  The footsteps got closer and closer, and she prepared for the deafening blast of a .45 caliber pistol. Just then, one of the other brothers shouted from the stairwell, “Hey! Y’all come up here. I think I found something. Could be exactly what we’re looking for!”

  The footsteps stopped and changed direction, fading away, and Mary could breathe again.

  “That was a close one,” she whispered to Theo.

  “You said it. Now let’s make a run for it. Now or never.”

  The Taylor boys, it seemed, had assembled upstairs, where they could be heard moving around above them. Theo rose from behind the bed and walked with cautious steps to the door and into the hall as Mary followed. They turned right toward the trashed living room where the sliding glass door was in view—the most practical exit.

  From there, Mary wasn’t sure where they’d run, but she knew they had to get as far away from the Phil’s house as possible. She felt disappointed that they hadn’t found the coveted item they had come looking for, the hidden element that had drawn nefarious forces to the house in the first place. But for now, survival took precedence.

  “This way,” Theo motioned as he walked toward the living room. Mary followed, and they stepped around the papers, glass, and tables in their path. Theo slowly pulled the sliding glass door open just as they heard footsteps trample down the staircase.

  Mary’s heart seized. “Hurry!” she said. “They’re coming.”

  “I know that,” Theo said, pulling the door open enough for them to slip through. “I can hear too.”

  Mary nearly pushed her way out as Theo squeezed past the sliding glass door and onto the deck. The brisk air was a welcome feeling, but they were still in great danger. Mary pulled the door shut and turned to Theo just as he raced down the stairs.

  Mary followed and as they reached the bottom, she glanced at the barn again. Something, a presence, attracted her, and she could swear something of value lay within.

  “In the barn,” she said, pulling Theo’s arm.

  “What?” he asked as though she were mad. He clearly was prepared to run into the woods and get as far from the house as they could, but Mary insisted.

  “Follow me,” she said, rushing past him and toward the big red barn that, for now, offered a different kind of refuge for Mary.

  Showdown

  Curtis woke up on the floor of Bob’s office, head throbbing. Long fluorescent bulbs flickered on the ceiling, and he could hear rustling coming from Bob’s desk in addition to a faint second voice, shouting on the other end of a phone.

  Bob was whispe
ring, “I had no choice, I told you that. He knows too much!” Bob rose as Curtis shut his eyes after hearing the squeaking of Bob’s chair. He could sense Bob’s approach and searched for some way to turn the tables and possibly escape. For the moment, he was safe. Bob was distracted, but that would soon change.

  Bob said, “We’re getting out of here. This place is too hot. I’ll call you when I get to the mansion.”

  Curtis opened one eye halfway and saw Bob’s pant leg inches from his face. He gazed upward and saw Bob’s silhouette standing over him, pistol still in hand and phone to his ear.

  “I’ve got it under control right now. Don’t worry.” He paused as though he was receiving an earful from the other end of the line. “I told you not to worry! I’ll call you later.” He hung up with a long sigh and then stared down.

  Curtis could feel the surging adrenaline beyond the pain in his head. If he was going to do something, now was the time. He opened his eyes and grabbed Bob’s leg, hammering his knee as Bob howled and bent forward. Curtis punched him as hard as he could in the side. Bob screamed in pain as his knees buckled and he hunched downward, catching a punch to his right cheek.

  Curtis felt a pop of cheek bone against his knuckles and then rolled to his side, pushing himself up and fully level with Bob, who had managed to get back on his feet, leaning now against the corner of the desk. He held his face with one hand, grunting, and gripped his pistol with the other.

  Bob stumbled back as Curtis prepared to charge him, knowing it was a risky move, with Bob still being armed.

  Bob’s muffled cries of pain only energized Curtis further. He found his footing and then charged at Bob with all the strength he could muster. Inches from tackling Bob, Curtis felt a blunt, shocking blow to his head as Bob swung the pistol and knocked him down on his side. As he lay on Bob’s gray carpet, panting, he could feel warm blood oozing down his forehead. The blow had left a deep gash. But it wasn’t the second pistol-whipping that surprised Curtis. It was why Bob just didn’t shoot him.

  Curtis brought his hand to his head, struggling to get up as his vision blurred. He felt disoriented and near shock. Bob’s voice echoed as he paced around Curtis, admonishing him.

  “I really didn’t want it to come to this, Curtis. I don’t know why you have to be so difficult.” He stopped at Curtis’s side and knelt while talking just above a whisper. “You think that you’re going to fight your way through this? Be a hero? Not happening, my friend.” Bob rose again, smoothing his hair. He walked to his desk and began rifling through his drawers while talking to Curtis in a nervous and distracted tone. “I’m sorry about this, I really am. I wish you hadn’t come in here making accusations at me.”

  Curtis wiped the blood from his forehead with his sleeve and attempted to stand tall again while pushing his weight against the desk. Bob slammed one of the drawers shut and stuffed some papers into his briefcase, seemingly indifferent to Curtis, as though he were certain that Curtis had been subdued.

  “I don’t know how I got wrapped up in all of this,” he continued. “You have to forgive me, Curtis. I’m only doing what is necessary. I’m bankrupt, okay? I’m divorced. I’ve got nothing.” He suddenly paused, took a deep breath, and then shouted, “I’m a desperate man!”

  “What the hell is it that you want?” Curtis managed to mutter in his state of semi-consciousness.

  Bob grabbed his briefcase and approached him, kneeling down again and talking softly. “I’m glad you asked. What I want at the moment is pretty simple. I’ve asked you to call your wife here, which you won’t do without jeopardizing me. So you leave me with no choice but for us to go back to your place. And wait. Got it?”

  “No,” Curtis said, leaning against the front of Bob’s desk. “I mean, what do you want with all of this? Why’d you kill Phil?”

  Bob chuckled in a mean way. “There you go again with the wild accusations.” He stood up, pointing the gun at Curtis. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Curtis looked up at Bob’s uncompromising face and realized he had little choice. Desperate people did desperate things, and Bob was on edge. His arms and legs were shaking, and Curtis knew that the next time, Bob might not hesitate to pull the trigger. He couldn’t do that to Mary. He wouldn’t do that. As long as he was still alive, there was hope. He pushed himself up as Bob backed away, not wavering with his aim.

  “Just put that damn gun down, will ya’?” Curtis asked, rising from the floor and holding the desk for balance.

  “No, thanks,” Bob said. He motioned toward the empty lobby ahead. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and tossed it to Curtis. “Might want to clean up first.”

  Curtis wiped the blood from his forehead, carefully dabbing. He couldn’t tell how large the gash was, but it hurt to touch. He then limped out of the office with Bob following him. Curtis said little as they continued through the lobby and toward the exit, where daylight streamed through the tinted windows. Once they were outside, Curtis believed Bob wouldn’t get very far. Someone would notice what was happening. They had to.

  “Where are you parked?” Bob asked as they reached the door.

  Curtis turned his head slightly, his hands still up. “Mary has the car.”

  Bob smiled. “Perfect. Well, then, looks like you’ll be driving my Volvo. I parked about a block up the street.”

  “Driving?” Curtis said.

  Bob lowered his pistol slightly and shook his head. “Curtis, you don’t really expect me to drive, do you? How would that work exactly?”

  “How do you know I won’t just crash us into a brick wall?”

  Bob laughed, almost too hard, and then slapped Curtis on the back. “What? And leave Mary a widow? I don’t think so, but nice try.” He then told Curtis to quit stalling and open the door. Curtis pushed the glass door open. There was a sign hanging on the inside of it that read Closed. Curtis stepped outside and felt a cool breeze.

  The sidewalk was empty. Music could be heard in the distance from the festival on Main Street. It was more than likely that Bob was going to want to avoid the crowds and would want Curtis to take an alternate route on the back roads. He turned to see that Bob was hiding the pistol under a suit coat draped over his arm.

  With his sleeves rolled up, tie swaying, and briefcase in hand, Bob looked to be a normal businessman. No one would suspect a thing unless Curtis gave them reason to. Curtis glanced over to the coffee shop across the street, where only ten minutes ago he had been sitting safely inside.

  He had expected deception from Bob, maybe anger when he was confronted, but Curtis never expected things to turn out as they had. Mary’s warning that they stick together came back to him. He’d never hear the end of it. He hoped to have the opportunity to eat crow.

  “That’s right,” Bob said, staying carefully behind him. “Up this way. It’s the blue Volvo ahead, right next to that mailbox.”

  Curtis looked up the street where several cars lined the sidewalk, the Volvo the first among them. He heard Bob shuffle in his pocket for the keys and found the scenario almost humorous. Almost. He’d never driven anywhere at gunpoint before. They reached the front of the car as Bob pressed the automatic key and the locks clicked open. “Okay, Curtis. We can make this simple. Avoid the busy roads and get us to your house. I’ll tell you how.”

  Curtis said nothing. He went around to the driver’s side door just as a man on a motorcycle raced down the road and jetted past them. There wasn’t much sense in flagging him down, or trying to “play hero” as Bob had put it. There would be other opportunities, plus in the end, Curtis didn’t think Bob was going to make it.

  He was a nervous wreck, sweaty and agitated. Curtis could play it to his advantage, but he would have to be careful. There were other players involved beyond Bob. Whomever Bob had been talking to on the phone seemed to be in on it too.

  “Get in,” said Bob, nudging him with the pistol.

  Curtis opened the door and sat inside, leaning against the warm fabric of the driver’s seat. Bob c
ame around the front and heaved himself into the passenger’s seat, the pistol in his lap pointed at Curtis but still concealed by his suit coat.

  He handed the keys to Curtis. “Go ahead and start the engine there, buddy,” Bob said, resting his cell phone on the dashboard. “Let’s move!”

  Curtis turned the ignition, wishing he could talk to Mary somehow. He wasn’t sure what he would tell her. He’d deliver a warning somehow without Bob’s knowledge, though Bob was watching him like a hawk. Curtis drove forward, leaving the parking spot and getting onto the road ahead. He followed Bob’s directions and stuck to the back roads. Part of him wanted to drive the car into a wall just as he had mentioned, but Bob was right. He wasn’t going to put his own life at risk, and he had a responsibility to Mary.

  Bob rubbed his forehead, exhausted, and then put on a pair of dark shades. His tiredness was showing, and Curtis wondered if he had even slept the night prior. He was stunned to think how long it had taken him to realize Bob’s shadiness. All those weeks, all those friendly meetings that had taken place between them. It had taken Mary time to figure it out, for her to tell him who Bob really was. Curtis regretted not believing her. How could he have been so blind?

  As they got farther away from downtown, Bob’s mood seemed to brighten as he offered Curtis some empty-sounding assurances. “Don’t you worry, Curtis. I like you and Mary, and I don’t want anything to happen to either of you. Just play along, and you’ll both come out of this thing just fine.”

  Curtis nodded, not saying a word as they continued down a two-lane rural road about five miles from the Bechdel estate. It was an absurd statement coming from a man who had recently pistol-whipped him twice and threatened to shoot him.

  Silence soon fell between them. Bob seemed tired of talking and actually rested his head back for a moment. Behind the wheel, Curtis was limited in his ability to fight back, even with the pistol resting inches from his grasp. For a moment, he thought that Bob might even doze off. That’d be all he would need to make a move.