The Haunting of Quenby Mansion Omnibus: A Haunted House Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  Evelyn cut him off by talking to the stranger. “Max, you saved my life. Don’t you remember? Say something. Please.”

  The man spoke with a gravelly tone. “Why did you come here?”

  It sounded like it was the first words he’d spoken in a decade.

  “I needed to find you,” Evelyn explained. “We know you are innocent.”

  The man walked forward. Evelyn and Terrence took a step back. The man eyed them and put the shotgun on the table.

  “You are Maxwell Quenby?” Evelyn asked.

  The man locked his dark eyes with her. “Maxwell’s dead.”

  Evelyn’s heart sank. Her eyes watered.

  Terrence squeezed Evelyn’s hand by his side. “Then who are you?”

  “No one,” the man replied. He stood, his back to the table and within arm’s reach of the loaded shotgun. “Maxwell died in that house ten years ago. He’d like to stay dead.”

  “We didn’t come all this way to play mind games,” Evelyn said. “We need your help.”

  “Then you wasted your time,” the man said.

  If Terrence had hair, he’d be pulling it out. “Do you have any idea what we went through to find you? What Evelyn and I had to give up?”

  Evelyn stood and planted her feet. “We aren’t taking no for an answer.”

  The man set his jaw. “This is about the murders.”

  “That’s one facet of it,” Evelyn replied. “We also know the men who tried to kill you.”

  “Tried?” The man glared at her. “Did.”

  Evelyn felt herself becoming red. “You ran away. There’s a huge difference. Now, I have two officers back in town who are ready and willing to take down your testimony. We can put the men who did this to you behind bars. At least for a few years.”

  The man sat against the edge of the table. “That night. When they came into the house. I could’ve run anywhere I wanted.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Evelyn asked.

  “I wanted to be free,” the man said.

  “You could’ve been free anywhere in the world,” Evelyn said, not understanding.

  “Free of people,” the man elaborated. “Free of society. Free of my failures. Out here, there’s no Maxwell Quenby. There’s just me. Another beast in nature.”

  “Lily said you were dramatic,” Evelyn replied.

  The man tensed up at the name.

  “I saw her,” Evelyn said, off his expression. “We talked about you, her, and me.”

  The man’s eyes glossed over.

  “I forgave her,” Evelyn said. “I’m willing to forgive you, but I need you to come home.”

  “You don’t really mean that,” the man replied.

  Evelyn didn’t know how she pictured this encounter before coming here, but it certainly wasn’t like this. “I thought you’d be more excited. Wasn’t the whole reason you took Mary Sullivan and Zoey Pinkerton under your wing was to have a daughter of your own? I’m far from perfect, Maxwell, but I’m here.”

  Maxwell studied his tattered gloves. “I gave up the right to call you daughter.”

  “Lily forced your hand. You didn’t have a choice.”

  Maxwell glared at her. “There is always a choice.”

  “Make one now: come back with me and right your wrongs, or stay here and let us clean up your mess. After all, the men who were after you are now after me.”

  Maxwell tensed up. His hand involuntarily landed on the shotgun. His guilt and fear hung in the air like a cloud. “They’re…”

  Terrence nodded.

  “Evelyn, run away.” Maxwell implored. “Those men will not be trifled with and cannot be stopped.”

  Terrence locked his fingers with Evelyn. “Trust me, we’ve been thinking about it.”

  “You don’t understand,” Maxwell hissed.

  Evelyn let go of Terrence and put her hand in her pockets. “I know what I’m dealing with, and I know the solution to the problem: your testimony.”

  “I won’t give it,” Maxwell said defiantly.

  “You’re going to cower for another ten years?” Evelyn lashed out.

  “No, I won’t give it because I’ll be dead!”

  Silence filled the stuffy cabin.

  Calming down, Maxwell elaborated, “One of those men who came after me is responsible for the killings. He won’t hesitate to do the same to us, especially if he knows you're going to expose him.”

  “Who is it?” Terrence asked anxiously. “Timberland, Yates, Calhoon?”

  Maxwell shook his head. “I don’t know. I followed the missing persons’ trail myself. One of the men got wind of it, pinned the murders on me, and used that to rally the rest. I didn’t have any idea who it was until I saw the five of them burst into my private study and pull me out. I was able to slip out of their grasp and escape through the tunnel, but not without taking a hit.”

  He unzipped the top of his camouflage jacket and pulled down the neck of his shirt, revealing a deep slash running down his chest. “It cut from there to my belly. Adrenaline kept me going. I was able to clean it out with maggots when I got out into the woods.”

  “Oh,” Terrence said, looking queasy.

  “Were you aware of the bodies stored in your basement?” Evelyn asked suspiciously.

  Maxwell stared at her like he didn’t understand the words she just said.

  Evelyn elaborated. “Zoey Pinkerton, Winslow Darvey, James Barker, Peter Calhoon, and Alannah Gimmerson. I found their remains in a secret basement compartment. I know Lily vouched that you were with her during the murders, but how did the bodies go undiscovered, and which of the men would’ve known how to access the body dump?”

  Maxwell rubbed his hand over his chapped lips. “To answer your first question, I knew something was amiss. I could smell it. The mix of decay and strong perfume. However, I couldn’t find the source. After all these years, it finally makes sense.”

  “You know Quenby House better than anyone, how could you not know?” Evelyn asked.

  “The mansion has secrets even I’m only faintly aware of,” Maxwell explained. “You can choose not to believe me, but I’m telling the truth.”

  Evelyn studied the rugged man. Was Lily really covering for him? Evelyn didn’t know. He was a hard person to read.

  “As for who would’ve known of the passageways, I cannot say,” Maxwell continued. “None of them should’ve had that knowledge.”

  Evelyn processed the information for a moment before saying, “The killer’s identity won’t matter as much if we can put all five men behind bars, so let me ask you again, Maxwell: are you coming us?”

  “My advice for the two of you is to leave Adders.”

  “That’s a no, then?” Evelyn asked, irritated.

  “There’s nothing I can do that will change the past. Dead is dead.” He noticed Evelyn’s heavy frown. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Zoey,” Evelyn called out into the room. “Show yourself.”

  Stepping out of the far corner of the room, the goth girl made herself known. She sheepishly hid her hands in her black hoodie’s pocket and averted her eyes from Maxwell. “Hey.”

  Face turning pale, Maxwell staggered back, wobbling against the table. He grabbed the shotgun. With shaking hands, he held the weapon at his hip with the barrel pointed at Zoey.

  “It won’t do anything,” Zoey replied. She turned the back of her head to him, revealing the red gash.

  Maxwell bounced his dark eyes between Evelyn, Terrence, and the specter. He tried to speak.

  “I know,” Zoey said. “I didn’t expect to be around this long either.”

  Maxwell’s eyes went wet.

  “Maxwell,” Evelyn said softly. “This is why it matters that you help. If not for my sake, for theirs.”

  Suddenly, the cabin was swarmed with all five of the specters. Maxwell’s spine hit the closed door. The victims made a semicircle in the room. Evelyn and Terrence stayed still and calm, watching Maxwell’s reaction and recalling th
eir own first encounter with the supernatural. Barker puffed his pipe, Alannah put her hands on her shapely hips, Winslow “smiled,” and Peter folded his arms behind his back to hide his stump.

  “Don’t be terrified, darling,” Alannah said. “We know you quite well.”

  Barker smiled to himself. “Yeah, telling him about all those nights you watched him sleep will really calm him down.”

  Peter took a step forward. Maxwell pressed himself closer against the door. “We would’ve revealed ourselves years ago, but we never knew how or when.”

  Maxwell gulped and turned to Evelyn. “Why are they…”

  “They can’t leave unless their killer is brought to justice,” Evelyn explained. “I didn’t know it for sure, but after Catherine and Stephen Doyle were taken out, Mary Sullivan was able to pass into the next life.”

  “Mary was killed at Quenby House?” Maxwell asked.

  Zoey smiled sympathetically. “We need your help, Max.”

  Maxwell lowered the gun. One step at a time, he walked to Zoey, put the weapon on the table, removed his glove, and reached out to touch her face. Zoey didn’t move. Maxwell’s hand phased through the teenager’s cheek. He quickly pulled back his hands a few inches and tried again, and hovered it on her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me too,” Zoey replied. Suddenly, she hugged him. Maxwell stepped back at the unexpected weight. He returned the hug, this time not passing through her ethereal body.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  After a moment, Maxwell released her and turned back to Evelyn. “Alright.”

  “You’ll come back with us?” Terrence asked.

  “Yeah,” Maxwell said, seemingly not believing his own voice, “Let me grab my things.”

  Evelyn sighed deeply. “We’ll get you back home and clean you up. Does that truck still run?”

  “We’re about to find out,” Maxwell said.

  It took a few minutes, but they got the old Ford running. The phantoms may have vanished from their sight, but Evelyn knew they were stored up inside of her and Terrence. Knowing the way back, Maxwell drove. The rusty truck bounced on uneven ground until it reached a dirt road. Terrence held the shotguns in the backseat. He looked out the window at the dark woods and shuddered.

  Evelyn kept her eyes ahead. She knew she had million questions for Maxwell, but at the moment, she didn’t know where to start. Though Maxwell was her father, it didn’t feel like it. He still seemed like a bearded stranger. I wonder what he thinks of me? Evelyn didn’t know if she wanted to know the answer.

  Apart from the rumble of the engine block, their ride home was quiet and tense. Maxwell scarcely looked at her. Evelyn couldn’t fault him because she did the same. In the inky black sky above, the moon was finally full.

  They rolled onto Quenby Avenue and turned onto the brick road, passing by the wooden sign that read “The Path.” Mossy oaks flanked either side of them and reached their branches overhead. It was a sight that Evelyn had grown accustomed to. Parking beside the minivan, Evelyn and Terrence got out and each clenched a shotgun. Maxwell followed behind him. He stopped in front of Quenby House, eyeing it from base to roof. A million stars backed the lightless, vine-dressed mansion.

  “I never thought I’d come back here,” he confessed.

  Evelyn unlocked the front door. “Welcome home.”

  Keeping their weapons aimed, Evelyn and Terrence fanned out through the foyer. Maxwell flipped the light switches, watching the chandelier glow to life. He smirked at the trumpeting angels on the domed ceiling.

  He examined the oil paintings on the wall and peeked into the hall of portraits. “What happened in there?”

  Still aiming her weapon, Evelyn hiked up the left set of stairs in the foyer. “Long story.”

  Evelyn explored the upstairs hall, opening every door she came across, checking bedrooms and bathrooms for any uninvited guests while Terrence surveyed the downstairs. After a few minutes, they reconvened at the balcony.

  “It’s all clear,” Terrence said.

  Evelyn clicked on the weapon’s safety and peered down at Maxwell, who seemed to be studying the various paintings. “You can use the master bathroom to shower and shave. Terrence needs to charge his phone anyway before we can get ahold of the cops.”

  “You aren’t going to get some sleep first?” Maxwell asked.

  “No,” Evelyn replied. “This ends tonight. Don’t worry. Terrence and I will keep guard.”

  Without a word, he walked up the stairs past them and headed into the master bedroom. Evelyn lowered the gun and rubbed her fingers up her hair.

  “What a day,” Terrence said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I don’t think Maxwell’s fully adapted yet,” Terrence said.

  “He just saw ghosts. Speaking of which. Zoey, Barker, Winslow. Come out.” Evelyn felt a tightening in her chest.

  Terrence must’ve too, because he grimaced and clenched his pecs. The crushing feeling grew stronger and then instantly subsided. Thought they didn’t see the phantoms, they knew they had left them.

  Evelyn felt even more exhausted than before. Terrence leaned against the railing. “You sure you don’t want to wait for tomorrow? As soon as Maxwell gives his confession, it’s going to be an all-night affair.”

  “I know,” Evelyn grumbled. “But the longer we wait, the higher the possibility that we are attacked. We need to be ready.”

  Terrence closed his tired eyes and smiled. “I have to say, it’s been an interesting trip if nothing else. We should write a book about couples’ therapy.”

  “We had our rough patches, that’s for sure,” Evelyn admitted. “Especially with you and Alannah.”

  “Okay, that’s the last time we bring that up,” Terrence replied jokingly.

  Evelyn cracked a smile and joined him by the railing. “I love you, you know that.”

  “I know,” Terrence replied and grinned at her. “Go wash up. I’ll keep guard.”

  “You sure?” Evelyn asked nervously.

  “I got this,” Terrence replied confidently and cocked the shotgun, discharging the already loaded bullet out of the chamber. It shot out over the railing. “Oops.”

  “Nice,” Evelyn said sarcastically. “Don’t shoot yourself.”

  “No promises.”

  Evelyn kissed him on his scruffy cheek, tasting sweaty salt and dirt.

  “Ew,” she replied and headed for the guest bedroom.

  “Ew? Ew? Come on now, that’s not fair,” Terrence said as Evelyn turned into the room, keeping her shotgun with her and smiling to herself. She turned and closed the bathroom door, knowing that their odd sense of humor was the only thing keeping them sane. Or it was adding to their insanity. Evelyn couldn’t tell. She stripped down and climbed into the bathtub. Standing, the showerhead sputtered down on her and took a few seconds to warm up. She was grateful for that. The cold water woke her up.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she let the water wash away all of the small twigs and crunched leaves from her blonde hair. She wanted to stand here forever, but forced herself to turn the dial off. She lifted one foot over the rim of the bathtub before noticing the man staring at her.

  He wore all black and had a featureless white mask. Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. She covered her parts with her hands. “Andrew? What are you doing in here?”

  The specter stared at her through his button-sized eye holes. He took a step toward her and then another.

  “Back off,” Evelyn growled.

  Andrew paused, glared at her, and then vanished.

  Evelyn waited for a moment before hastily grabbing a towel and drying off. She still felt like he was watching her. Wearing her towel like a dress, Evelyn cracked open the door and peered into the hallway.

  “Terrence, can you get me some clothes?” Evelyn glanced at the interior balcony but saw no sign of her husband. “Terrence?”

  She turned her gaze to the open master bedroom at the other end of the hall. The
door was ajar and lamp light spilled out of it across the hardwood. Apart from the wind battering the windows, Quenby House was deathly quiet. Leaving behind her clump of dirty clothes, Evelyn exited the guest bedroom.

  Silently, she held the shotgun and jogged to the master bedroom. The bathroom door was open and the light was off.

  “Maxwell?” she called out.

  No reply.

  Evelyn felt her skin crawl. Instinct told her to look at the peephole in the wallpaper. Without a sound, she approached it. It was pitch black inside. Breath quickening, she slowly leaned in and pressed her face against the wall. Faintly, she could make out the tight corridor and bent nails within. She swiftly pulled away and turned back, expecting to see someone.

  Evelyn was the only one in the room.

  Closing the door, she quickly threw on some ashen shorts and a black t-shirt, leaving the wet towel on the white hardwood floor.

  Clenching the weapon tightly, Evelyn moved through the hall and onto the interior balcony. The foyer was quiet and empty, the front door was closed, and the plastic sheets on the two adjacent windows were intact. That was a relief. “Terrence? Maxwell?”

  Evelyn’s voice seemed to bounce off the high walls. She hiked down the stairs, keeping the stock of the shotgun against her shoulder. She reached the bottom of the stairs and heard some talking, but their voices were muffled. She followed the sound to the dining room. The door was open an inch. Keeping the gun up high, she pushed it open with her foot.

  Terrence sat at the right of the head of the table. Maxwell sat at the head. His gray hair was in a ponytail. His face was clean-shaven, revealing his gaunt cheeks and chapped lips. He wore a blue business suit, white button-up, and no tie. Though rugged, he wasn’t a bad-looking man.

  Evelyn lowered her gun and glared at Terrence. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m heating up some barbecue for Maxwell,” Terrence explained. “It was only gonna take five minutes and then I was going back up there.”

  “This is not the time to act stupid,” Evelyn reminded him sternly.

  Terrence didn’t reply.

  “When was the last time you ate something?” Maxwell asked.

  Evelyn didn’t remember. She had felt famished since before she arrived at the cabin. “We shouldn’t waste any more time.”