The Haunting of Quenby Mansion Omnibus: A Haunted House Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  The guest bedroom marked Evelyn’s next stop. It was equipped and ready to settle in, dust notwithstanding. Evelyn approached the dresser’s drawers that had been left open for who knew how many years. She studied the old clothes within. The shirts and pants were reminiscent of the seventies. They appeared to be owned by a female. Were these my mother’s or my aunt’s? Evelyn sifted through them in search of some clue to the owner’s identity. Nothing. She made a pile on the bed and a mental note to wash them later. When the room was cleaned, she headed out into the laundry room in search of a hamper.

  When she returned to the bedroom, all of the dresser’s drawers were open again.

  Evelyn eyed the room cautiously before stepping inside. She slowly pushed the drawers back into the dresser, watching the wheel track within to see if it was slipping. It was not. In actuality, the drawers would stick inside the dresser. She reminded herself that she needed sleep and tossed the pile of laundry into the washer. As the machine rumbled, Evelyn turned about the large basement. Her eyes went to the wall where she heard the scratching noise on their first night in Adders. The more she looked at it, the more claustrophobic the basement felt.

  She headed outside for the first time since she got out of bed. The breeze was nice and the sky was blue. Terrence listened to blues playing from an old music player. The sound was slightly muddled but the soul was still there.

  “Like my new toy?” he asked as he yanked a deep root from the ground.

  Evelyn looked at the old music player. “Where did you find it?”

  “In one of the storerooms. I found a record player as well. One of the good ones.” Terrence said with a wide grin.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Evelyn said, squinting next to him.

  Terrence yanked up another weed. A clump of dirt hung on the dangling root. “I don’t want you getting any blisters.”

  “Oh please,” Evelyn chuckled.

  Smiling, Terrence gave her a hand spade.

  They started on the brick road, stopping for a moment to study the skid marks left by the twins a day prior.

  Getting down on their hands and knees, they began pulling patches of grass growing between the cracked bricks. “I was thinking that we should see the town some night. I hear they have great live music.”

  “That’ll be fun,” Evelyn said with a little less enthusiasm than she had hoped. Terrence noticed.

  “Can I bribe you with a deep-fried country-style funnel cake?”

  “Do you want to give me a heart attack?” Evelyn jokingly replied.

  Terrence leaned in close. “I want to go on a date with you, that’s what I want.”

  Evelyn scooted away. “I’d rather focus on the house right now. We can go out after we’re all done.”

  “That’s probably the smart way of doing it,” Terrence said, trying not to sound disappointed.

  His phone rang. Trying not to get the phone dirty, Terrence held the device gingerly and answered. “Terrence Carr speaking… Leo, how’s it hanging?... Oh yeah, I know that feeling,” Terrence chuckled and got up.

  He muted the phone against his shoulder and whispered to Evelyn. “It’s the blues musician from the restaurant we went to the other night.”

  Evelyn gestured for him to take his call. Terrence put the phone back up to his ear and returned inside.

  Alone, Evelyn kept on working. The afternoon sun baked down on her. The air became humid and buggy as the day went on.

  Dressed in a nice blue button up and slacks, Terrence hustled out the front door. Still on the ground, Evelyn brushed a strand of hair away from her eye and gave him her attention.

  “We must’ve made an impression. The guy wants me to make him a guitar. I’m going to head over to his place and hash out the details,” Terrence said. “It will only take a few hours.”

  “You don’t need my permission,” Evelyn replied.

  “Thanks, baby,” Terrence replied with a smile. “I would kiss you, but you’re all dirty and sweaty.”

  “Oh, you’re such a romantic,” Evelyn teased.

  Terrence rushed over to her and planted a wet one on Evelyn’s lips. “There,” he said in accomplishment and unlocked the rusty bucket minivan. “Relax for the rest of the day. I can’t have my beautiful wife working in this heat.”

  “Enjoy yourself,” Evelyn said and rose from the brick pathway. From inside the minivan, Terrence waved her goodbye and putted down the road. When he was gone, Evelyn returned to de-weeding the bricks. She was able to knock it out much quicker than she thought she would. After filling up a glass of water in the sink, Evelyn thought about the next project that would get her mind off her abnormal sleeping habits.

  Not wanting to do work inside the house, Evelyn headed to the toolshed. The door was loose on its hinges, and Evelyn thought it would be a good time to learn some new skills. Finding a few old nails and a hammer within the shed, Evelyn got to hammering the door properly on its hinges. It didn’t take too long before she stubbed her thumb. It swelled and throbbed, and her fingernail turned black. Walking off the pain and regretting that she didn’t listen to Terrence’s words, Evelyn caught a glimpse of someone standing out in the cotton field.

  She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and called out, “Hey!”

  The figure took off into a sprint in the opposite direction. Keeping the hammer with her, Evelyn took off after them. She brushed against the untamed cotton crops as she gained on the stranger. The person moved too quick for Evelyn to catch a good look. What are you doing? Evelyn asked herself as she ran. Call the cops. Yet, her P.I. instincts kept her tailing after the stranger.

  She slowed to a stop on the black scorch mark dead center of the field. Her pulse quickened and her breathing staggered.

  Standing amidst the cotton plants was a blonde little girl and a tall man in black wearing a white mask with button-size slits cut over the eyes. The world spun under Evelyn’s feet. She tried to steady herself but could find nothing nearby to prevent her from falling. So, she fell.

  By the time her bottom hit the packed dirt, the figures vanished, and a wave of tiredness hit Evelyn suddenly. Her head cramped. I need sleep, she told herself. Abandoning the work on the shed, Evelyn returned inside via the back door. She noticed something was amiss when she entered the foyer. All of the priceless paintings were scattered across the carpeted floor, the chairs and sideboards were turned on their heads, and flower vases were in shattered heaps.

  Evelyn froze, wondering if whoever did this was still in her house.

  She dialed Terrence.

  “Pick up. Pick up,” Evelyn muttered, afraid to go any farther into the house.

  “Hey--”

  “Terrence, listen.”

  “-- You’ve reached the voicemail of…”

  Evelyn hung up and tried again.

  Voicemail.

  The floor above her creaked. Someone was walking around up there.

  In her line of work, Evelyn had been to some shady places and encountered an assortment of suspicious individuals, but none had ever been in her home before. The threat felt real, tangible, something that she wasn’t used to.

  Something smashed upstairs.

  The smart thing would’ve been to get out of house, but the knife in the kitchen called Evelyn’s name. No part of her wanted to go up the curved foyer stairs, but letting someone destroy her father’s things wasn’t something Evelyn was going to allow. With the knife’s cold hilt in hand, she conquered the first step.

  SMASH! Something else broke.

  Evelyn conquered the next step. She kept her fear hidden behind her stone-like expression. The steps groaned under her shoes. Her clothes stuck to her from the cold sweat dosing her body.

  More movement. It was something big.

  Evelyn had the element of surprise on her side.

  Then, her phone rang. The noise echoed through the house.

  The movement upstairs instantly ceased.

  Stopping halfway up the stairs, Evelyn pu
lled out her screaming phone and answered, keeping her eyes on the balcony above her.

  “Hey, it’s me,” Terrence said. Laughter sounded on his end of the line.

  “Terrence,” Evelyn whispered, “There’s someone in our house.”

  There was a pause on Terrence’s end.

  “Call the cops. I’m on my way home now. Wait outside.”

  “Okay. Okay. Hurry,” Evelyn stepped down from the steps and fled out the front door.

  Keeping the knife with her, she faced the plantation. Her eyes bounced between the upstairs windows in search of moment. None. Her phone must’ve scared the intruder. She dialed 911.

  In six minutes, a squad car came screaming down the road. A burly officer with short gelled gray hair stepped out. His face was square and flat with two different colored eyes: one green and one brown.

  “Michaels,” he introduced himself and stared up the house with a small confident smile on his hard face. “I’m here to help you. What can you tell me?”

  “I last heard them upstairs,” Evelyn explained. “I didn’t see them. I believe there’s only one, but there could be more.”

  Officer Michaels nodded to himself. “Wait here.”

  Before Evelyn could reply, the officer was pushing through the front door.

  Evelyn awaited his return. She sucked on her swollen and bruised thumb. Minutes went on like hours. Michaels was nowhere to be seen.

  Five minutes passed.

  Ten minutes.

  Fifteen minutes.

  Evelyn heard the radio crackle inside the police cruiser. “Michaels. This is Dispatch. Over.”

  Evelyn stared at the vehicle. Its blue and red lights reflected in her blue eyes.

  “Report in, Michaels. Over.”

  The front door of the mansion opened. Officer Michaels stepped out. His face was neutral and unreadable.

  Evelyn awaited his response. “Well?”

  The officer snapped out of his daze. “It’s clear. There’s no one there.”

  “You’re sure?” Evelyn asked.

  “See for yourself.”

  Evelyn walked into the house and down the hall.

  “Anything missing?” Michaels asked.

  Evelyn looked over the clutter. It made it hard for her to take inventory over everything. “It doesn’t look like it.”

  She searched upstairs. Chairs were tipped on their sides, windows were open, and bedsheets were pulled from their mattresses. The vandalism seemed random and reckless. Evelyn walked through the master bedroom and bathrooms. “It looks like all of it is here,” Evelyn told the officer as they marched down the stairs. She picked up a painting and hung it back on the wall. Thankfully, it was not damaged.

  They headed into the basement. It was the only part of the house untouched by the rampage. That’s what Evelyn thought at first until she noticed that both shotguns and all the shells were missing.

  “Whoever was here stole our weapons,” Evelyn told Michaels.

  “Is there anyone you’d suspect?” the officer asked her.

  “I’ve not communicated with too many people since I got here. The only ones that come to mind are these twins in their thirties. I never got their names. They stopped by yesterday. I never got their names.”

  Michaels jotted down a few notes as they returned to the foyer. “I’ll see if I can’t find them. Call if there’s any more issues. Even if something feels wrong. We’ll be here as fast as we can.”

  “Thank you.” They returned outside as Terrence arrived.

  He hustled out of the minivan and gave Evelyn a hug. “I got here as fast as I could. Tell me what happened.”

  “Someone broke in,” Evelyn explained. “They took our guns and trashed the place.”

  “Are we safe, Officer?” Terrence asked.

  “We’ll be ready to answer your call at a moment’s notice,” Michaels promised. “I’ll look into those twins and see if I can’t find anything.”

  Holding hands, Evelyn and Terrence watched the police cruiser drive away.

  “I can’t believe this happened,” Terrence said. “I’m sorry for leaving you here alone.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Evelyn replied. “Let’s get this cleaned up. I want to make sure nothing’s damaged.”

  The vandalism was not as costly as they thought. Most objects were just tossed across the room, not stomped or smashed. A few vases were shattered, but nothing irreplaceable suffered heavy damage. Evelyn tried looking at that as a positive, but it was still hard to get over the initial shock that someone broke into her home.

  “You think we should get a hotel?” Evelyn asked as they put drawers back into a dresser.

  “Leave all our stuff here? No way.” Terrence replied.

  “They have weapons, Terrence.”

  “I’m not going to let them do any more harm.” Terrence said sternly. “This house is our only chance to live big in this world. I’m not leaving.”

  Evelyn gawked at him for a moment. He kept on working, but his motions were jerky and motivated by anger.

  That night, they double-checked all the locks and kept a baseball bat under the bed. Neither one of them spoke or slept for a long while.

  Evelyn’s sleep deprivation finally caught up to her well past 1 a.m. She closed her eyes for what seemed like an instant and then woke up three hours later. Terrence wasn’t beside her.

  Groggy, she sat up and called her husband’s name. She tried the light switch. It flickered, but the lights didn’t turn on. Grabbing the oil lamp and matches, she walked out of the room. “Terrence. Answer me.”

  No reply.

  Evelyn heard a scratching noise seeping out of the basement.

  Her heart raced. The hairs on her neck stood. She turned the glass knob. The basement door creaked open. She took it one step at a time. “Terrence?”

  She held the lamp high, illuminating the vast basement and blanket-covered objects within. The scratching noise got louder. Was she dreaming? She pinched herself. This was real. She saw someone standing by the far brick wall. Evelyn stopped. The person’s back was turned to her. Their fingers scratched the coarse brick. The skin on the fingertips was raw and bloody.

  “Terrence,” Evelyn said quietly. She stepped closer. “What are you doing?”

  Something inside told her to run away.

  She put her hand on her husband. He didn’t react to her touch, just kept on clawing until tears of blood snaked down the wall’s coarse surface.

  6

  The Key

  Terrence’s eyes were shut. Drool trickled down his lip. His fingers kept raking across the wall. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Evelyn shook him. He didn’t stop clawing.

  “Terrence. Terrence. Wake up.” After a moment of hesitation, she slapped her husband across the face with as much strength as she could muster.

  Terrence didn’t react. A red handprint formed on his cheek.

  Evelyn felt the world spin. She grabbed her husband and pulled him away from the wall. Terrence’s arms desperately reached out to keep on clawing, but the moment they were a few feet away, both his arms fell limply to his sides. Evelyn stared at him. She put her hands on his cheeks and turned his face to her own. He was still asleep.

  Evelyn looked around the basement for something to stop his peeled fingertips from bleeding. She pulled a white sheet from atop a pagoda lampshade, shook out a cloud of dust, and swaddled Terrence’s fingers with the cloth. She tied both of his hands together, unsure if her pacifist husband would turn violent. Grabbing his wrists, she led him up the rickety stairs. He shambled behind her. Using the oil candle to navigate the massive mansion, Evelyn guided Terrence through the large foyer and up the curving staircase.

  Evelyn narrowly missed a shard of glass she failed to clean after the break-in. Every few steps, Evelyn forced herself to look at her sleeping husband. The wrappings around his fingertips were staining maroon. Breathing heavily, Evelyn reached the interior balcony: a place where the Quenby greats would watch
over dozens of patrons attending an evening dance. She walked through the long hallway, flanked on both sides by closed doors, and then into the master bedroom.

  Terrence tore his wrist from Evelyn’s grasp and toppled face first on the king-sized bed. Evelyn stared at him with bloodshot eyes. He began snoring. Tense, Evelyn sat in a nearby chair and watched her husband sleep until the oil lamp flickered out.

  Terrence called her name.

  Evelyn jolted awake. The oil lamp fell at her feet and spilled across the hardwood. Feeling the sun beating down on her back, Evelyn got to her feet and wiped her drooling mouth with the top of her hand.

  Terrence sat at the edge of the bed. With a horrified expression, he bounced his gaze between her and the maroon-stained rags on his fingers. “What happened?” he said with a hoarse voice.

  “You were sleepwalking,” Evelyn told him, joining him by the bed.

  He raised up his rag-bound hands. “How…”

  “You hurt yourself,” Evelyn said, unable to bring herself to tell him about the specific cause of his injuries.

  “And my face?” he asked, grimacing.

  Evelyn smiled tiredly. “I slapped you.”

  Terrence looked at her, dumbfounded.

  “Come on, let me get those bindings off of you,” Evelyn said and untied the knot. Terrence winced when his hands were free. He went into the bathroom and washed his fingers in the sink, sucking air as the water touched his tender and broken skin.

  Hands dripping, he returned to the bedroom. “Do we have any Band-Aids?”

  “There might be some in the minivan. Inside the first-aid kit.”

  Terrence groaned and headed for the door. “This doesn’t make sense. I’ve never had a blackout in my life.” He cursed under his breath and left Evelyn’s sight. Her beaten-down reflection looked back at her in the makeup table’s mirror.

  She went outside. Her husband’s body was halfway out of the van. He grumbled to himself as he sifted through the contents under the seats. Defeated, he pulled himself from the vehicle and faced Evelyn. “I can’t find it. I’m going to make a store run.”