The Secret of Bourke's Mansion

by Carolyn (Moyer) Swayze

  As she strolled toward the store to retrieve her groceries, she could see the ferry heading in. It would be so good to see a friendly face. She knew now how Grev felt when he had called her on his way back from Garrett Island. Now she understood why. But why hadn’t he warned her? He must have known.

  She walked out on the wharf, looking searchingly into the depths as if to find some answers. After a bit, Casey joined her.

  “Hey, Katie,” he said winningly, “I was only teasing. You shouldn’t be so edgy.”

  When she made no reply, he said reassuringly, “Everything will look better when your friend comes. You’ll rest better then.”

  She looked at him hopefully. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “And maybe,” he continued in a suddenly sinister tone, “she’ll convince you that the smart thing to do is to pack your things and get off of this island as fast as you can.”

  Kate shivered as she walked away from him.

  Chapter 7

  She was even happier to see Lynn’s broad, beaming face than she had anticipated. “Thank goodness you’ve come. I hope you’re braver than I am. It has been spooky after all,” she bubbled.

  “Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all of that.” Lynn laughed. “I think you are glad to see me. You look thinner and tired. Have you had a bad time?” She looked concerned.

  Kate passed it off nonchalantly. “I was just a babe in the woods, but I’ve got a grip on things now. It’s been a good experience.” She stopped her chatter as she watched Mr. Grayson, briefcase in hand, stride purposefully toward the ferry. He was wearing a well-cut business suit.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve found a new love,” Lynn said, following her gaze with interest.

  “No. That’s Mr. Grayson. He’s the storekeeper, if you can believe it. I wonder where he’s off to?”

  “I’ll take a wild guess and say he’s off to the city. I’ve based that conclusion on the fact that there doesn’t seem to be much to hold a man like that here for long.”

  “I suppose you’re right, although he does have his family here. You know, it’s odd,” she continued, knowing that what she was going to say would sound paranoid, “but Lynn, no one wants me here. They keep telling me to go away. Even Casey”—she indicated the man bending over a motor in a drum—”has been so ominous and well, two-faced, I guess you’d say. He’s been kind and yet rude and he, too, told me to leave. Anyway, I’m glad that you’re here,” she repeated with relief.

  “Slow down, kiddo. I’m here. All is well.” She smiled companionably while watching Casey speculatively.

  “I’ll tell you more about it when we get home. I want to get there before dark.”

  “I take that to infer that there’s no power yet.”

  “No,” said Kate regretfully, “but I think we’ll be basking in light by tomorrow night, thank goodness.”

  “Do you think that will chase the squirrels out of the attic?” she asked somewhat sarcastically.

  “I don’t think there is an attic. Oh, I suppose there must be,” she corrected, remembering the high-pitched roof.

  Highly appreciative of Lynn’s company, Kate chatted almost compulsively as they walked toward home. Lynn seemed withdrawn, with little to say.

  At last Kate sighed. “Here we are and it’s not quite dark.” She was a little annoyed that Lynn made no comment about the place, seemingly oblivious to its beauty. She bustled about lighting the fires and lamps, enjoying her role as hostess. Lynn seemed edgy, as she often was, but Kate reasoned that she was tired. It must have been a rush to change after work and make it to the ferry on time.

  She smiled at Lynn. “I’ve got a pizza mix, for old times’ sake.”

  “This sounds like a farewell scene,” Lynn retorted caustically.

  Kate masked her surprise. “I expect you’ve had an exhausting day. I really appreciate your making the effort to come.”

  “Perhaps I am tired,” she said a bit sheepishly, “But I’ve been moping about you! I hope you’re not still thinking about Grev. Things are great just as they are. Why go messing up our lives?”

  “I haven’t made any decisions at all,” Kate said calmly, although disturbed at her friend’s intensity. Lynn was fond of her, she knew, but this was ridiculous. She abruptly changed the subject. “Come into the library. I want to show you some needlework of Mrs. Bourke’s.” She led the way, then gasped in surprise as she looked at the room. “Why, it’s been tidied up. I’d left the work on the armchair. Oh, there it is in the sewing basket. Maybe I did put it there, but I know definitely that I left a clutter of newspapers and kindling by the fire.” She stared at the fireplace and hearth—both were swept clean.

  “Kate, are you sure? I wouldn’t expect to find good fairies scuttling around here.”

  “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “it was just an hour or so ago that I told Mr. Grayson that no one had taken care of the place. Word certainly travels fast. Who could have done it and where are they now?”

  She peered uneasily into the darkness. It would be foolish to alarm Lynn. “I must be imagining things. I expect that’s the result of being alone, except for my friend Casey here,” she said, indicating the cat curled in the chair. “He comes and goes as he pleases.”

  “Come on,” said Lynn, taking charge, “our pizza is waiting.”

  Over supper the two girls talked over their doings of the last few days. Lynn made light of Kate’s worries and she soon found herself feeling much more optimistic.

  “How are things at work?” Kate asked.

  Lynn peered at her pizza with great interest. “Oh, about the same,” she said slowly. “I don’t know if I’ll stay there or not. It’s a big place and I find it hard to get along with so many people.”

  Kate frowned. “Lynn, you can’t really afford to quit. You’ve had four jobs since I’ve known you and never stayed at one more than a month. Each job has been at a medical clinic. Maybe you should be in another field, but you have to establish some sort of work history. What’s the problem?”

  Lynn hunched her shoulders. “Are you looking for a more affluent roommate?”

  Kate shook her head impatiently, “No, it’s not that. I’m just trying to understand what makes you tick.”

  “Maybe I’m just not meant to achieve very much in life. Everyone doesn’t have the confidence or the luck that you do, Kate.”

  There seemed to be no answer to that, but Kate thought it telling that Lynn had cited confidence as one of her attributes. When she thought about it, she realized that perhaps insecurity was a problem with Lynn or at least the reason why she often had so little to say and found it necessary to sleep endlessly, it seemed. When she was working, Kate often had an awful time waking her and encourag­ing her to get off to work. She seemed to use tranquilizers quite heavily, too.

  “Lynn,” she prodded gently, “are your nerves really bad?”

  “Kate, just get off my back and don’t try to live my life,” Lynn said angrily.

  After a long awkward silence, Kate asked Lynn if she had seen Grev.

  “No, but I went out with Allan Adams last night. I guess that’s why I feel tired. Anyway, what I found out about Grev didn’t enhance my impression of him.”

  “Lynn! Was it a date or an inquisition?”

  “I was just curious,” she replied coolly.

  “I’ll form my own opinions,” Kate said stubbornly, trying to shield her anger from her friend’s inquiring eyes. “But thanks just the same for trying to protect me from my own folly. I’m a big girl, remember.”

  By this time they had retired to the living room for after-dinner coffee. Kate hadn’t known that Lynn and Allan were even acquainted, and she was irritated by Lynn’s assessment of Grev. She turned her attention to a scrap of muslin on which she was practicing a few basic needlepoint stitches.

  “Have you heard from your family recently? Where are they?”

  “No, I don’t often hear from them. They seldom bother telling me their
plans,” Lynn said defensively.

  “That’s too bad. I hope I’m able to meet them sometime.”

  “That’s doubtful. You wouldn’t like them anyway. The whole family is weird.” She shook her head disparagingly. “I was thinking, though, that I’d like to go to Ireland with you and meet your family.”

  Kate looked up. “I’m not altogether certain that I’ll go after all. It just depends.”

  “Stick to your original plans, Kate,” she said, displeasure obvious in her voice. “Don’t let anyone change your mind or run your life.”

  “I think I’ll make up your bed,” Kate said at last, breaking the strained silence. She didn’t know how to react to Lynn’s attitude, and had thought it best to just say nothing. “If you feel up to helping tomorrow, we could accomplish a great deal. I wonder when the man from Tulley’s Auctions is coming to look things over? I’d like to be organized by that time and ready to start on the Indian artifacts.”

  Lynn glanced about in surprise. “There don’t seem to be so very many Indian things. I’ve only seen a few baskets and tools and I think the rug on the sofa might be Coast Salish work. You’d probably be smart to just lump them in with everything else and get this monstrosity sold.”

  “There’s a few more things scattered about and I wouldn’t want to overlook anything of value,” Kate said carefully as they walked to the bedroom.

  “I feel blue when I think of listing this place. There’s over one hundred acres. What if someone tried to divide it into small homesites, like a subdivision?”

  “They’d make a fortune. You should do it yourself.”

  Kate was surprised at the certainty with which she spoke. “That would be a criminal thing to do— a tragedy. Besides, Grev would never agree to such a thing. He’s not a spoiler, Lynn.” She took her annoyance out on the pillows, which she stuffed into cases with uncalled-for firmness.

  “I wouldn’t count on that. There’s a great deal of money to be reaped here and no one likes money more than Grev.”

  “He wouldn’t do it,” Kate retaliated firmly. “He loves this place.” She flipped the last quilt onto the bed and hoped that some semblance to their former easy camaraderie would return in the morning. “Sleep tight. See you at the crack of dawn.”

  “Thanks, but this is a holiday. You’ll see me when I waken from natural causes.”

  Kate blew out her lamp in the adjoining bedroom and almost immediately heard the haunting wail begin.

  “Don’t worry, Lynn,” she called out. “That dog has been here before, wailing like a banshee.”

  “There’s nothing like a peaceful island holiday,” was the sarcastic reply.

  The dog was quiet and the wind had ceased when Kate awoke with a sudden start. She knew that something had retrieved her from the depths of sleep. Perhaps it was the sudden quiet. Her eyes skimmed the dark shadows of the room, stopping abruptly at her closed bedroom door. She had carefully left it open, of that she was certain. She reached quickly for her flashlight, easing it on silently. A dim light barely penetrated the darkness before fading. The new batteries were still sitting on the kitchen counter where she had left them. She nervously twisted a strand of hair as she weighed the pros and cons of leaving the bedroom. An unexpected circle of light whisked by, discernible through the crack of the threshold.

  “Lynn, is that you? You’ve frightened me half to death,” she scolded as she fumbled her way to the door and stepped into the absolute darkness of the hall. “Lynn,” she repeated uncertainly. There was no answering assurance, but not far away Kate could detect someone breathing quietly and evenly. “Lynn, please don’t play games,” she whispered.

  She looked searchingly toward Lynn’s door and found that it was closed. The floor creaked under slow, careful footsteps. She froze into immobility, peered blindly into the darkness, and caught the sharp scent of mothballs permeating the air. She backed silently into her room, easing the door shut. She groped for the boudoir chair and as she propped it under the doorknob, she heard Casey purring contentedly on the bed.

  The night seemed endless. Reluctant to move, she forced her mind to other things. Anything at all to insure that she didn’t think about where she was and what was happening. She couldn’t help but hear the sound of drawers being opened and the relentless progression of cautious footsteps through the house. Her hands were shaking as she stroked Casey, willing the dawn to come and hoping against hope that the Indian room was safe.

  Finally she heard the certain click of the kitchen door. She eased her way to the bay window and drew the drapes slightly. She could see two shadows, uncannily grotesque, projecting from the front corner of the house. They seemed to be conversing for a moment before a cloud blotted the moon’s light and all became dark again.

  The hours passed with remorseful slowness until at last from far below came the friendly crow of a cock as the first rays of light penetrated the eastern sky.

  Kate made her way purposefully into the library, lit a lamp, then tiptoed to Lynn’s room. The door was wide open, and inside she could see Lynn stretched languidly beneath the quilts, deep in a seemingly untroubled sleep. She stifled a pang of jealousy in the face of such restfulness. Quietly closing the door, she went to the kitchen to begin the daily battle with the cook stove. She frowned as she noticed damp footprints on the kitchen floor and the absence of kindling in the woodbox. Taking a deep breath, she flung open the door and found herself looking into the face of Samuel Moonsong.

  Chapter 8

  “Samuel,” she breathed. Their eyes met, both pleading for understanding. “Samuel,” she repeated as he turned away, “don’t go. Please. I want to talk to you.”

  His face seemed to soften as he glanced warily about. At last he spoke. “Don’t take anything from this house,” he whispered. “Leave it as it is. Just go away. It is better that way and then you will be safe.” He turned to go.

  “But Samuel,” she cried as he moved quickly down the path. “Wait, I don’t understand!”

  “Leave!” he repeated urgently. Then he was gone from sight.

  She stood shivering in the damp of early morning, her mood black with desolation. It was a conspiracy. The whole island population wanted her gone. They had taken a united stand against her, of that she was certain. It didn’t make sense. Apparently the Bourkes were welcome and respected residents. It was ludicrous that she should be viewed as such a threat to whatever or whomever they were trying to protect. It must be something terribly important to them all or surely someone would have stepped forward and explained. They must all have a share or a stake in it, she reasoned. “Oh, stupid, stubborn people! It just isn’t fair,” she stormed as she tossed the wood into the cupboard.

  She hurried to the living room, noting a trail of damp footprints as she went. Apprehensively, she unlocked the closet and plunged through. She found the Indian room intact. That, at least, was safe. She pondered for a moment why she hadn’t revealed its presence to Lynn and could come up with no logical reason other than a mounting mistrust of everyone.

  She poured her coffee with a trembling hand and sat down grimly to think through the happenings of the past few days. She sighed in frustration as disjointed questions swirled through her tired mind.

  Why was she so unwelcome? Was she not wanted on the island or at the Bourke Estate? Had Grev met any of the local residents? Did he have any ulterior motives in sending her here? If not, why was Lynn so against him? What were the missing links to Lynn’s past and present? Who had keys to the house and why? What about the new door and where was the old one? And there was Casey, the cat, who had once seemed such a mystery. Now in the face of all that was happening, he seemed a trivial matter. What about the Graysons? They seemed unlikely storekeepers, wealthy and so warily hostile. Who was the girl with the red hair? The questions went on and on with no basis of fact on which to base any answers.

  “I’ll simply have to systematically find out,” she decided firmly just as Lynn padded sleepily into the ki
tchen.

  “Brrr. Good morning. The world should erect a monument to the man who invented central heating.”

  “I’m sure it was a woman, Lynn. Here, sit by the stove and I’ll pour your coffee.”

  She stoked the fire, taking her time, thinking things through. “How did you sleep?” she asked carefully.

  Lynn stretched expansively. “I slept just like the proverbial log,” she said. “I don’t think I even turned over. The howling dog and the roaring wind combined with the salt air blowing through this drafty barn must have lulled me right off to dreamland. It was those raucous birds that woke me this morning.”

  “Oh, those are magpies, I think.” She watched Lynn intently. “Someone was walking around the house last night. At least two people who seemed to be looking for something. I got up and even called out, although my flashlight was dead. Your door was closed.” She paused for breath. “Lynn, what do you think is going on?”

  “Katie, there must be squirrels in the attic,” she commented dryly.

  Resisting the urge to throw something at her, Kate said, “Come and take a look at the footprints.” She led the way down the hall. “Oh, no, they’re gone. I suppose they just dried up.”

  “Maybe the same little good fairy came back. She seems to take quite an interest in keeping the floors clean.”

  “Lynn, I know for certain that someone was poking around the house last night and didn’t want me to see them. So many people have keys, I guess I’ll have to rig a barricade of some sort in front of the door.”

  “Listen, Kate, I really don’t think that you are imagining everything. It’s just that I see things a little differently than you. The way I see it, these are all vibrations telling you to go home, where you belong, with me. Grev’s using you. He’s probably the one who antagonized the islanders and couldn’t finish the job himself. So, he sent his little patsy to take care of it for him. Leave when I do,” she implored. “I’m afraid of you coming to some harm. You’ll see Grev for what he is when you tell him you’re not going to do his dirty work for him!”