The Haunting of Quenby Mansion Omnibus: A Haunted House Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  Evelyn soaked in his words, finding logic in them and growing angry because of it. She shut her eyes and attempted to clear her mind. “The evil that happened here has caused a ripple in so many lives. Don’t tell me that doesn’t affect you?”

  Terrence looked like he was chewing gravel. “It does, but we have our own lives to worry about.” Terrence approached her and put his hand on her belly. Evelyn tensed up. Terrence didn’t let go. “And whatever life we bring into this world.”

  Evelyn tried to imagine Terrence and the son and daughter they talked about during those late nights. She could only think of the wounds of phantoms and the broken families they left behind.

  Evelyn put her hands on Terrence’s. Gently, she removed it from her torso. She thought he would be mad and mentally braced herself for resistance.

  Terrence was as silent and hollow as the mansion.

  Evelyn brushed some dust off her pants. “I’m going to visit the sheriff. See if he can’t put me on as a consultant.”

  Terrence averted his eyes.

  Unable to find anything more to say, Evelyn left the lounge and walked down the hall displaying a mural of Mary Sullivan's death. There was another that needed saving now.

  In the driver's seat of her rusty minivan, Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to kill the headache but failing. She shoved the key into the ignition and twisted it harshly. With a sad sputter, the vehicle awoke.

  She put the car into reverse when the passenger side door opened and Terrence climbed inside.

  “I’m not changing my mind,” Evelyn said.

  “And I’m not letting you go alone.” Terrence slammed the door behind him.

  Is this a mind game? Evelyn looked at him for a moment.

  Terrence stared back at her expectantly. “Well? Are we going?”

  Evelyn held her breath and reversed the car. She didn’t let it go until they were halfway down the red brick path.

  The skinny, blonde, peppy receptionist named Sunshine greeted Terrence and Evelyn as they entered the sheriff’s office.

  “Have a seat,” Sunshine said with the friendliest smile. “The sheriff will call you in when he’s ready.”

  If not for the sheriff’s seal on every wall and window, Evelyn would’ve thought she was waiting for a dentist appointment. After a few moments, Terrence grabbed a Forbes magazine off the stack.

  As soon as Terrence opened the front page, Sunshine said. “He’s ready.”

  Perturbed, Terrence slapped it back on the stack and followed Evelyn into the office.

  Sheriff Garrett Yates had red hair and a red beard touched with gray on its sides and cut so short it was seemingly painted on his face. By the air of maturity about him, Evelyn could tell he was much older than he looked. Standing behind his desk, he clenched his tall mug of coffee in both hands and sniffed the divine aroma. With closed eyes, he took a gulp, a small smile curled on his face as he savored the moment.

  Evelyn cleared her throat.

  Yates opened one eye, looked at her while he finished his gulp, and then pulled the coffee from his thin lips. “Mr. and Mrs. Carr, I’ve been meaning to have someone check up on you. How have you been feeling since the, for lack of a better term, home invasion?”

  “We’re surviving,” Evelyn said curtly.

  Yates took another sip of coffee. Another sip of his own personal heaven. “On behalf of the town, I apologize. In Adders, stuff like that just doesn’t happen.”

  Right. Evelyn kept her expression neutral. “I want to consult with you on the Bella Day case.”

  Yates raised his reddish-gray brows. “Wow. You come right out of the gate with it.”

  “I believe the same person who took the girl is linked with the bones found in my basement,” Evelyn said.

  Yates set his coffee on the desk. “That’s quite the accusation.”

  “Nothing like this has happened in over a decade,” Evelyn explained. “And now this whole town is in a fritz.”

  “You know what’s funny?” the sheriff asked rhetorically. “Adders was quiet before you two arrived.”

  Evelyn crossed her arms. Terrence glared at Yates.

  Yates grinned. “That was a joke. Eh, there are a few grains of truth in it. You have been visiting an awful lot of people lately. Disturbing the peace, some might say.”

  “You’ve been following us?” Terrence asked.

  “I’ll tell you what I told your wife on her first visit. Adder’s a bubble. Inside it, everyone knows everybody and everything.”

  Evelyn replied, “Except for the whereabouts of Bella Day, and who killed Zoey Pinkerton, Peter Calhoon, Alannah Gimmerson, Winslow Darvey, and James Barker.”

  The sheriff eyed her for a moment with a small disbelieving smile on his tan face. “You know, those names haven’t been released to the public.”

  Evelyn felt her heart skip a beat. “I researched disappearances online and compared them to the decay on the bone. It made the most logical sense those were the victims.” It was only a partial lie.

  Yates looked at Terrence. “Your wife is a private investigator and forensics analyst? Anything else you want to tell me about her?”

  “She sees dead people,” Terrence replied.

  Yates studied him for a moment. Then, he chuckled. “You two are something else. Tell me what you want to do on the Day case and I’ll see if I can help you out. For your father’s sake. Speaking of which, have you thought about donating? The department could use your support.”

  Evelyn ignored his request. “I want to see the crime scene.”

  “There’s not much of one,” Yates replied. “The parents called it in last night after the girl didn’t return home from their neighbors. The neighbors told us that Bella never came over at all.”

  “I still want to look around.”

  “Be my guest,” He jotted down the address. “Deputy Painter is already over there on his second sweep. Now I have a question for you: why do you think her disappearance is linked to the murders over a decade ago?”

  “Something about the timing feels off. I guess you can call it a gut feeling.” Evelyn replied.

  “Or you’ve been asking too many questions.”

  Evelyn and Terrence exchanged looks.

  “Do I need to fill out any paperwork?” Evelyn asked.

  “For simplicity’s sake, we’ll say you're an--” Yates made hand quotes, “--unofficial consultant. You get something big, we’ll talk about a contract form.”

  Evelyn and Terrence headed to the door.

  “Oh,” the sheriff said, stopping them. “We haven’t forgotten about Stephen and Catherine Doyle. We believe they’ve left the state. I’ll contact you if that changes.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff,” Terrence said.

  Evelyn drove to Berry Street, where little Bella Day went missing. Like most neighborhoods in Adders, the houses were very spread apart. The Day residence and their neighbor’s house were separated by a twisted road flanked by towering trees.

  Evelyn slowly drove down the road. The shadows of tall oaks fell over her vehicle. Terrence sat in relative silence, as he had since they left Quenby House. Up ahead, Evelyn saw Deputy Painter. Mid-thirties, wearing a green uniform and black felt hat, Painter had a steel-colored five o’clock shadow and shark eyes. He leaned against his squad car and took a drag from a dwindled cigarette. Evelyn pulled up behind him and exited the car with Terrence.

  “Yates call you over?” the deputy asked, giving Terrence a nasty look.

  Evelyn nodded. “I’m a P.I. Terrence is my assistant and my husband.”

  “Husband?” Painter asked, his Southern twang showing.

  Terrence smiled awkwardly. “That surprises you?”

  Painter shrugged. “We don’t intermingle as much as you city folk do.”

  “No?” Terrence asked, playing the peacemaker.

  “Hey, I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” Painter flicked his cigarette. The amber bounced on the road, spilling ash on the c
oncrete. “Different, that’s all.”

  “This is where Bella Day went missing, right?” Evelyn asked, feeling it best not to continue this conversation.

  “Uh-huh,” Painter replied.

  Evelyn glanced at the cigarette butt, wondering if she should mention the fact that it was disrupting the crime scene. She had a feeling that the deputy wouldn’t care either way. “Mind if we looked around?”

  “Sure,” Painter replied. “Call me if you find anything. I ain’t had no luck.”

  Evelyn and Terrence split up while Painter stuck his hands in his pockets and craned his head up to the sky. Evelyn couldn’t tell if Sheriff Yates was a bad judge of character or if he put Painter here because of his laziness.

  Evelyn walked by the ditch that rutted beside the asphalt road. She found dirt, rocks, and Styrofoam cups. There were no tire marks, meaning either the abductor slowed to a stop or he was on foot. Evelyn searched on her side of the tree line. A few yards back from the road was a wire fence staked in the ground and linked together by green metal shafts. She found a tuft of brown and white hair tangled around the wire. By its density, it belonged to an animal. Cow, maybe. Not finding anything on the road side of the fence, Evelyn climbed over. The woods quickly turned into a pasture, spotted with crusty cow patties. She walked out into the field until she could see both the Days’ residence and the neighbor's home. The stretch of woods was only a few hundred feet long. Beyond that, someone would’ve seen the little girl getting into a stranger’s car. The abductor must’ve known this. It was why he took her at this location.

  Evelyn returned to the road. The deputy was away from his car. Terrence was waiting for her return. “I found something.”

  Evelyn followed him to the far ditch on the opposite side of the road. Painter was crouched down in the rut, examining a sunflower-shaped earring. It was cleaner than the rest of the ground’s surface, which mean it wasn’t there for long. This was where she was taken.

  “Good job,” Evelyn told her husband.

  Terrence didn’t reply. He was still not happy pursuing this lead.

  Evelyn headed to her next stop. The Days’ residence. The parents were visibly and rightfully distraught. The husband wore horn-rimmed glasses and casual wear, and the woman wore a long-sleeved shirt and a skirt.

  “We’ve answered all the police’s questions already,” Mr. Day said.

  “Has Bella’s attitude changed in the last few weeks?” Evelyn asked.

  Mrs. Day replied this time. She patted her red nose with a tissue. “Apart from her allergies, nothing has changed. She followed her weekly schedule like always.”

  Evelyn glanced at the calendar. Piano practice Monday, doctor’s appointment Tuesday, choir practice Wednesday, babysitting Thursday, second choir practice Friday, clean-up day Saturday, and church Sunday. Most of the steps were repeated weekly.

  Evelyn pressed the Days for more information about their daughter. They said typical parent stuff. “She was an angel.” “Why would someone do this to my baby?” More things that didn’t help the case.

  The Days squeezed each other’s hands. The wife looked into her husband’s tired and downtrodden eyes and said, “We worked so hard to give this child a good life, and now that she’s gone…”

  “Not gone,” Mr. Day said. “Missing. She can still be found.”

  Mrs. Day glanced at Evelyn. “Do you think you can do a better job than the police?”

  “I can offer my services, but nothing more than that.”

  “Why help Bella?” Mr. Day inquired.

  Because there was no disappearance before the bones found in my house were broadcasted on TV. “Because I’d want someone to do the same for my daughter if I had one.” Evelyn gestured to the calendar. “You mind if I take a picture of that list?”

  Mr. Day gave his approval. Evelyn snapped a picture. “I’m going to need her tutor’s contact information too.”

  Once she got it, Evelyn started with the piano instructor.

  With screeching brakes, Evelyn pulled up to the woman’s house and raced out her car. The first forty-eight hours of any missing persons case were crucial. Evelyn had no time to waste.

  The instructor's house had tall glass window frames and, if seen from the sky, was in the shape of a golf club. Approaching the front door, Evelyn could hear the piano playing. It was a familiar tune, but Evelyn couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “Clair De Lune by Claude Debussy,” Terrence said.

  Evelyn punched the doorbell with her finger. Soon after, the music stopped and the door opened. The piano instructor was middle-aged, wearing a long red shirt and black pants. Her hair was gray and tied off in a ponytail. Her face was angular and centered by a sharp nose. She smiled awkwardly at them. Her name was Lola.

  Evelyn made the introductions brief and got straight to business. “We’re looking for Bella Day.”

  Eyes watering, the instructor let them in. “It’s a horrible thing, isn’t it? Such a talent.”

  Terrence and Evelyn walked into the open hall that branched into the living room and dining room. Lola took them to the living room and took a seat on the piano bench. Evelyn and Terrence sat on the couch. Musical decor decorated the walls, whether it was old framed sheets of music, a metal treble clef, or simply artistic black-and-white photos of pianos. Upon the piano bench, dozens of photos of little girls and boys hung.

  “You’re doing quite well for yourself,” Terrence said.

  Lola wiped a tear. “It’s nothing really, I’m just following in my mother’s footsteps. She taught most of the town’s children too. Piano, that is. If not for Bella’s disappearance, I would’ve been meeting her today. Right now.”

  “We’re sorry,” Evelyn said.

  “I’m just glad an outsider is taking such an interest.”

  “I’m not that far of an outsider. I’m Maxwell Quenby’s daughter and sole inheritor,” Evelyn explained.

  Lola’s jaw dropped. Suddenly, her sorrow twisted into disgust. “Oh,” she said.

  Terrence leaned forward in his seat and asked, “Is something the matter?”

  “No… It’s just… I…” Lola searched for the words. She finally spit out, “My head hurts and I’m not feeling well.”

  “Not a fan of Maxwell?” Evelyn asked.

  Lola stood up. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  Evelyn crinkled her brow. “Tell me what the issue is.”

  “Please leave,” Lola said, her face going blood red and her eyes watering. “I will call the cops if you don’t leave.”

  Evelyn fished out her business card from her wallet and put it on the table. “Call me if you’re interested in saving Bella Day.”

  As soon as Terrence and Evelyn were out the door, it slammed and locked behind them.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Terrence asked.

  Lola closed the curtains.

  Evelyn heard the start of her phone call.

  “You would not believe who just showed up at my house… Yes, asking about Bella,” Lola started. Her voice faded as she left the living room.

  “I guess her head didn’t hurt after all,” Evelyn said.

  Evelyn pulled out the address for the choir practice. It was much closer than the doctor’s office.

  The GPS took Evelyn to the Baptist church: a white steeple on a hill with a sign that said “Only Jesus saves.” Nearby, a cross had been set out and painted white, with spray-painted pools of blood where the hands and ankles would be. Evelyn gave the door a knock. An elderly man answered. He was tall with short hair and loose skin. A burgundy birthmark bloomed above his right eye.

  “You Thomas?” Evelyn asked.

  “I am.”

  “I want to talk to you about Bella Day but need your assurance you aren’t going to slam the door in my face.”

  “That would be absurd,” Thomas replied.

  He welcomed them inside. Parents and children alike chattered at the far end of the church, no doubt getting ready
for practice. “The children’s choir will practice tonight. We will feel Bella’s loss but are praying for her swift return.”

  He opened the door to a small conference room that consisted of a table, a few chairs, and tapestry that displayed the most renowned bible stories. Thomas poured them all glasses of water from the glass pitcher. Holding three glasses, he gingerly walked to the table and put them on top. “Mary likes music. She likes singing. But I believe her involvement with such activities were more her parents’ executive decision. I know Mary and how much she loves adventure and the outdoors, something that was safe in Adders at a time.”

  “Is there anyone you might suspect that would harm Mary?”

  Thomas shook his head. “No. There are sinners, yes, but none this great in many years.”

  “What happened many years ago?” Evelyn asked, playing ignorant.

  “A series of events that I would not like to see repeated.”

  “Such as…”

  Thomas bounced his eyes between Evelyn and Terrence.

  “We need to know,” Terrence said.

  “Not to breathe life into any rumors, I’ll tell you the facts. A series of individuals went missing. Whether it was coincidence or something else, I don’t know enough to say, but the discovery of bones in the old Quenby House makes me question a darker reality.”

  “I get the feeling people suspected Maxwell Quenby,” Evelyn said.

  “I can’t say. To falsely accuse a man is wrong. However, in light of recent evidence, I think it's fair to say he had some involvement, whether voluntary or involuntary.”

  “Is there a chance Bella could’ve run away?” Evelyn asked.

  “There’s always a chance,” Thomas said. “But that just is not something Bella would do. If anything, home would be the first place she’d run to.”