The Haunting of Quenby Mansion Omnibus: A Haunted House Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  “No,” Evelyn said. “We need that money in case something happens.”

  “Someone knows how to get in and out of the house. I don’t know how I feel staying here.”

  Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose. She glanced at the clock. It was nearly 4 a.m. “We’ll keep the doors locked and barred and hope that our roommates will warn us of any trouble.”

  “If you think we can trust them.”

  “They need us,” Evelyn replied. “If we fail, they’re stuck here.” Evelyn climbed into bed. “Get some rest. There’s still a lot that needs to get done.”

  He glanced around the room for a moment and then scurried up to his pillow and under the covers. Thanks to her sore palms and knees, Evelyn was so beat from going through the tunnel that sleep came swiftly. So did the morning sun.

  After getting dressed, Evelyn ventured down to the lounge and found the girl she was looking for: Zoey. The goth sat sideways in the recliner with her legs slung over an armrest and an open book on her lap. Evelyn didn’t recognize the title, but she could tell it contained a plethora of dark poems within.

  Evelyn sat down the loveseat nearby. Zoey glanced over to her. Black eyeliner encased her apathetic eyes. She said nothing and went back to reading.

  “I spoke to your father,” Evelyn said.

  Zoey’s flat expression wavered for a moment and then returned to its normal, callous look.

  “He wished that he hadn’t been so overbearing and regrets the way the two of you parted,” Evelyn said.

  Zoey closed the book and turned to Evelyn. “You told him I was… like this?”

  Evelyn shook her head. “I didn’t want to risk sounding insane.”

  “You are a little psychotic,” Zoey said dryly. “Most people would’ve run far away.”

  Evelyn cracked a smile. “We tried that once. Mary drove us back here.”

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  Evelyn spoke up. “You know I help a lot of girls like you. Potential runaways, that is.”

  “Is that how you see me? Some damaged little girl?” Zoey shot back.

  “We’re all damaged,” Evelyn replied. She turned her shoulder to Zoey and pulled down the back of her shirt’s neck. Deep scars engraved her flesh. Once Zoey got a look, Evelyn repositioned herself.

  Zoey averted her eyes, pondering.

  Evelyn scooted to the end of the seat. “Your father told me Maxwell was your godfather. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Zoey shrugged. “Did it matter? I’m dead. Maxwell is dead.”

  “You saw him die?” Evelyn asked.

  “I saw him get taken from this house.”

  “By whom?” Evelyn asked anxiously.

  Zoey shrugged again. “I don’t know. People. It happened pretty fast. The screams were pretty convincing though.”

  “You couldn’t follow him?” Evelyn asked.

  Zoey shook her head. “There’s only two of us that can do that. Andrew and Mary. The rest are bonded to these halls.”

  “What was Maxwell like?” Evelyn asked.

  Taking her legs off the armrest, Zoey sat up normally. “Relaxed, around me at least. I would come over, and he’d give me free rein over the house. Unlike my parents, Maxwell didn’t mind listening to my music at full blast and allowed me to stay out late. He was a great listener, too. Me, being a kid at the time, could talk to him for hours and felt like I wasn’t speaking to a brick wall. Unlike my father and mother. At the end of my venting, he’d share some sage advice about letting go or looking past the drama and at your future. I think that’s how he lived. Thinking about tomorrow, but enjoying the fruits of today.”

  “Sounds like quite the father figure,” Evelyn replied.

  “Yeah, he wasn’t perfect. There were still areas where he’d draw the line. Like how much wine I could have or making sure that I always had money put back into savings. My father didn’t see that. He thought that Max was corrupting me and banned me from coming over here when I was fourteen. Max respected my father’s wishes. He would reach out in other ways though, like buying me a new book or CD on different holidays.” Zoey sighed. “When I saw Max in passing, he looked so lonely. I think he wanted his own family, but despite his fortune, he never found it.”

  Evelyn soaked in the large lounge and antique furniture. “I think sometimes about what my life would’ve been like if I was raised here. I know you didn’t love your parents, Zoey, but be grateful you had them. Everything I have, I’ve had to earn myself. Every skill, I had to teach myself. It wasn’t until I met Terrence that I realized I didn’t need to shoulder the weight alone. But I’m sure he can attest that there are days where I certainly don’t act like that.”

  Zoey pondered that.

  “Let me ask you something,” Evelyn said.

  Zoey gave Evelyn her full attention.

  “Is there a chance my father is still alive?”

  Zoey thought about it for a moment. “I guess.”

  “Is there a chance he’s behind these murders?”

  “Never,” Zoey replied swiftly and with fire. “Not Max.”

  “Then who?” Evelyn asked.

  “Someone who hates him so much they used the basement as a body dump.”

  “Barker!” Evelyn called out.

  “Hmm?” the old man appeared, pipe in mouth, sweater vest on his person. “What is it?”

  “Now you answer my call,” Evelyn said in disbelief.

  “Sometimes we hear you, sometimes we don’t,” Barker said. “We have lives outside of talking to you, you know.”

  Evelyn gave him a look.

  “Okay, maybe you can’t channel us because you’re not open to it. I don’t know. Do I look like a clairvoyant? I taught Humanities, for Pete’s sake.”

  Evelyn crossed her legs. “You’ve been here the longest. Did you see who carried in the bodies?”

  “Good question,” Barker replied. “The answer is no.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’d look blurry. Out of focus.”

  “Was he a phantom?” Evelyn asked with concern.

  “Heavens no! That would be ridiculous. I could see everyone else here fine, but not him. The others have the same issue. My theory is that we can’t see who killed us.”

  “That’s a stupid rule,” Evelyn said.

  The phantoms nodded in agreement.

  “Welcome to the supernatural,” Barker said. “Some things just don’t make sense. When I tried to look at the killer, I found myself spitting blood everywhere. It wasn’t an experience I wanted to repeat.”

  Evelyn stood up. “Was Maxwell home during the times the killer dumped the bodies?”

  The phantoms exchanged glances. “Never on those nights, but the killer always came in through the tunnel in the shed, and when the killer was away, Maxwell was in complete focus.”

  Evelyn throw up her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  Barker pulled the pipe from his mouth. “We never expected you’d blame your own father. That’s just sick.”

  Evelyn opened her mouth and then closed it before she said things she would regret.

  “So you're telling me my father might be alive and there’s a good chance he’s not the killer the town thinks he is?”

  Zoey and Barker replied in unison. “Yes.”

  Evelyn cursed. Loudly. “Where did he go?”

  “We have no idea.”

  Evelyn waited around until the other phantoms arrived. They had the same response.

  Alannah said, “I’m sorry, darling. I wish you the best of luck in finding him.”

  Evelyn rushed upstairs. Does my father know who the killer is? Evelyn wondered. She got Terrence out of bed. “There are some people I need to talk to. You tagging along?”

  Terrence bounced his eyes around the master bedroom and its dusty furnishings. “If you think I’m staying in this house alone, you got another thing coming.”

  They drove out of Adders and into the nearest town that was large
r and had a proper hospital. Evelyn and Terrence marched through the mechanical doors and requested to speak with Dr. Gregory.

  “I like this guy,” Terrence said as they waited. “He was very nice to pay for my stay.”

  “He seemed to have a friendship with Maxwell at some point, and maybe our best shot at locating him.”

  “What about Bella?” Terrence asked.

  “I’m not giving up on her but until we can get a lead, there’s not much to do. I don’t want to be sitting around either.”

  Wearing a white doctor’s coat, Dr. Gregory, in his fifties, waltzed to them. With every step, his silver-streaked brown hair seemed to bounce. His piercing brown eyes were full of concern. “Evelyn. Mr. Carr. What seems to be the issue? Is it your health?”

  Evelyn looked around the semi-packed waiting room and the strangers staring at them. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

  “Certainly,” Gregory replied. He led them back to a small office with a patient bed, countertop, and stool. He gestured for them to sit. Evelyn claimed the stool. Terrence took the bed.

  With his arms crossed, the handsome doctor waited anxiously for a response.

  “It has to do with Maxwell. I think he may be alive,” Evelyn said.

  Gregory’s eyes widened. “You’ve been keeping your ear to the ground.”

  “You knew?” Terrence exclaimed.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but a body was never found,” Gregory said.

  Evelyn fumed. “Am I the only one who’s out of the loop?”

  “I’m a man of certainties, Evelyn,” Gregory explained, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t go spouting off gossip, nor do I pay mind to rumors. But, if you come to the conclusion that he may be alive, then I cannot deny it because I am uncertain myself. Forgive me for not being more forthcoming with the two of you.”

  Terrence flashed a smile. “Apology accepted. Tell us what you know about Max, Doc.”

  Gregory glanced back to the door, making sure it was closed. “Those last few months, Max was very nervous, and with good reason. Most of the townspeople blamed him for the disappearances of all those people, especially Mary Sullivan. However, with the police on his side, the people felt betrayed. They threatened Max, vandalized his property, and wouldn’t serve him at any store. One night, he vanished, but all of his belongings remained. Some say he ran away to kill himself, others say he was murdered by a vengeful parent. The theory that has resurfaced of late is that he went into hiding. Until now.”

  Terrence and Evelyn traded worried glances.

  Gregory continued. “The bones found in his basement convinced people that he was the killer. That little girl going missing a day and a half ago confirmed his existence.”

  Evelyn ran her hand through her hair. “Is that why the townspeople won’t talk to me? They think my father is a killer?”

  Gregory took a breath and nodded. “Petty, I know.”

  “How about you?” Terrence asked. “Do think that Max killed those people?”

  “You tell me,” Gregory replied.

  Evelyn studied him for a moment. “You can’t deny the facts.”

  “They are pretty damning,” Gregory said, lost in thought. After a few seconds, he returned his attention to them. “If you need anything, here’s my contact information. I have to return to my patients.”

  “Thanks,” Terrence replied. Evelyn accepted the card with his address and phone number on it.

  With pursed lips, Gregory smiled. “Stay safe. I would rather not see you on my operating table.”

  The doctor hurried out of the room and onward to his next patient.

  “What now?” Terrence asked. “There’s still no proof he took that girl.”

  “I know,” Evelyn replied. “Let’s head back home.”

  As Terrence drove, Evelyn watched the cattle pastures and old farms blur by. The AC jostled her blonde hair. She wanted to ask her father so many things. If you’re alive, why haven’t you reached out? Why leave me the house in your will? Why did you put me up for adoption? Who is my mother? She pulled out the small ledger and looked at the dates that coincided with all the abductions, even Mary Sullivan’s. Why did you have this? Were you chasing the killer or were you working with him? Did you bring me back here to find you or keep far away? Evelyn needed to find him, now more than ever.

  She dialed Sheriff Yates and put it on speaker.

  “This is the Adders sheriff’s department, Sunshine speaking. How might I assist you?” the pretty receptionist replied.

  “It’s Evelyn Carr. I need to talk to Yates.”

  Sunshine patched her in.

  “Hello? Yates speaking,” the sheriff answered.

  “Any update on the Day case?”

  “Nada. We’ve organized a few search parties though. Hopefully that will bring some results,” Yates said. “It’s really starting to smell like a body.”

  “Well, that’s horrible,” Terrence mumbled.

  “Why say that?” Evelyn replied.

  “No ransom. All next of kin have alibis. These are the signs of a tragic ending, or no ending at all, if you catch my drift.”

  “Do you think Maxwell Quenby is behind it?” Evelyn asked.

  Yates spit coffee. “What gave you that idea?”

  “People seem to think he’s back.”

  “Be praying he isn’t.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The locals know that the Quenby House has all sorts of secrets. If they believe Maxwell has returned, I don’t have the manpower to stop them from searching your land, whether you give them permission or not.”

  “If that happens, Sheriff, I expect I can count on you, whether you’re ready or not,” Evelyn said curtly.

  “Yeah.”

  Their conversation ended soon after.

  Terrence shook his head. “This is unbelievable. What’s the chance that some attack will happen?”

  Evelyn smirked. “We should’ve never buried those shotguns.”

  “We wrapped them up,” Terrence replied. “It’s not too late to get them out.”

  Back at the plantation, they grabbed shovels from the shed and hiked beyond the cotton field and past the hay. They found the rock that they placed over the burial and started digging. Three feet down, they found the two shotguns swaddled in an old rug. Evelyn unwrapped it while Terrence went to dig up the ammo box.

  She felt the weight of the weapon in her palms. The gun was a decade or more old and not the most trustworthy of firearms. It beat having no weapon though. After getting the guns and ammo, they returned inside and opened up gun cleaning tutorials on the Internet. Keeping the news playing, they periodically glanced up to see if there was any more information on Bella Day.

  Nothing.

  They looked up from the dining room table, noticing Mary Sullivan standing in the doorframe.

  “You need to stop them,” Mary said. Her eyes were wide and dry, her voice small and emotionless.

  “The police are looking for Catherine and Stephen Doyle,” Evelyn told the girl.

  “They won’t find them,” Mary replied. “You need to find them.”

  The girl turned around to exit. Evelyn got up and followed. Mary was gone.

  “We have a full plate,” Terrence said.

  “It seems to only get fuller.”

  After they finished cleaning the shotguns, they went outside and fired a few rounds. The weapons worked. For now. They stashed them under the bed, still wondering where the two rounds they fired went after they sleepwalked with the armaments so long ago.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon looking up information on Maxwell and Bella. After recalling the conversation with Bella’s parents and double-checking the abduction site, they realized it was time to rethink their strategy. They returned to the lounge and found Alannah relaxing in the loveseat, Winslow watering his flowers, and Andrew standing off the corner, observing them with black holes in his white cotton mask.

  Alannah smiled wicke
dly at Terrence’s arrival. “You’re looking handsome.”

  “Uh, thank you,” Terrence replied, trying to take his eyes off the woman’s slashed throat and failing.

  Evelyn approached Andrew. “What can you tell me about your brother and sister?”

  Andrew said nothing.

  Evelyn asked again and got the same reply: an empty glare.

  Terrence asked Alannah if she remembered seeing the killer drop off any bodies or lurking about. Alannah thought on it. “I saw nothing at all. The last time I tried to look, it felt like a cold blade was opening my neck again.”

  The clock ticked on. It was nearing the forty-eight-hour mark since Bella Day vanished. Evelyn double-checked the bone pit beneath the house. Empty. She tried out the servant cabins outside of the house. No Bella. The killer may not have dumped the body on her property, or Bella Day might still be alive.

  That night, they made sure the kitchen pantry was especially sealed off. Putting a chair under the master bedroom doorknob, Evelyn and Terrence were ready to go to sleep.

  That night, they heard another noise in the house.

  “Someone’s here,” Evelyn whispered. Terrence pulled the bedside lamp switch. Mary stood at the foot of the bed. Her head was slightly tilted, her blonde hair flowing down the side of her freckled face and her eyes seemingly lifeless. “Downstairs,” she said.

  Evelyn swiveled out of bed and slid on the jeans that were scrunched on the floor. Terrence put on his shorts and socks while Evelyn grabbed the shotguns. She checked the chamber. Fully loaded. Terrence accepted the weapon with hesitation. As quiet as they could, they removed the chair from under the doorknob and ventured into the hall. Every step they took seemed to groan too loud. Mary watched them leave.

  Evelyn reached the foyer, keeping the gun up but her finger off the trigger. They turned on the light, brightening the massive foyer. Terrence went down one of the curving steps and Evelyn went down the other. They reconvened at the center, watching each other’s backs. They headed down the hall of portraits and unlocked the kitchen. They flipped on the light. All of the doors and cabinets were closed, but lying on the kitchen island was a folded note.

  While Terrence scanned the room, Evelyn picked up the letter in one hand and opened it.