A Deadly Brew

by Lynn Cahoon

  “Are we the first to stay here?” Halloween was two weeks away but on a Tuesday. Aunt Jackie had wanted to hold the party next weekend, but the council had set up the date so as not to conflict with Bakerstown’s party.

  “No. It’s been rented out since September 30. We got two nights because the mayor owed me a favor. And I finally got him to pay up.” Darla made a face and I wondered if this favor had been when Darla saved the town from the mayor’s wife messing up the holiday festival last year. “Anyway, when the former owner disappeared, the house went into receivership and some bank made the tax payments until a few years ago when the trust ran out of money.”

  “Then one of the mayor’s buddies picked the property up for a song,” Amy added to the story. “But one of the council requirements to sign off on the sale was that the builder allow for this charity fund-raising event. If not for Bill Sullivan, the house would already be gone and the school wouldn’t have the supply money. I know it’s not much, but it’s something to a kid who needs a backpack or notebooks.”

  Justin held up his beer. “Here’s to supporting education. Smarter kids make smarter adults and we all benefit.”

  By the time we got back to the house, the group had accepted Jake as one of our own. I knew Greg still had his doubts and as we stood with our bags, waiting for the caretaker to let us in, I saw him pull Jake to the side. Relief filled me when I saw Jake nod, apparently agreeing to keep the weapon in his car. Our Halloween party didn’t need a weapon brought into the lockdown.

  Darla looked at her watch for the third or fourth time. I’d lost count. “He should have been here by now. It’s ten after. Maybe I should call him.”

  “Give the guy a break. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic. You know how the highway can get this time of day.” Matt rubbed Darla’s shoulders. “Besides, I’m not really looking forward to being locked in. Greg, the fire department does know we’re here, just in case something happens like the zombie apocalypse, right?”

  “You think the fire department is going to save you from zombies?” Justin shook his head. “I’ve got my own supply kit in my car, just in case. And besides, the only thing that might happen to us this weekend is we run out of beer too early.”

  Greg let down his tailgate. “If we run out of beer, you all need to quit drinking. I’ve got enough in the truck for a small football stadium.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Jake slapped Greg on the back. “And who says cops don’t have a sense of volume.”

  “Um, no one?” Esmeralda shook her head. “Jake, that doesn’t even make sense.”

  “I don’t really care as long as there’s enough beer.” Matt moved toward the truck. “Let’s get this unloaded and stacked near the opening. Darla’s got a couple of coolers filled with food in our car. We can get everything unloaded, and by the time we’re done, the caretaker will probably have shown up.”

  “You’re an optimist,” Darla grumbled, but she went and opened the back of her SUV. “I’ll get my duffel.”

  When the caretaker’s car finally pulled onto the narrow dirt driveway, all of our suitcases, coolers, and a stack of twelve-packs of beer and several bottles of wine were sitting on the yard next to the door.

  “I’ll lock the truck; you go talk to our new friend.” Greg watched as Darla and Matt greeted the new arrival. I started toward Jake and Esmeralda, but he beelined to greet the caretaker.

  “He’s a slippery one.” I patted Greg’s arm and before I moved to join the group talking to the character, I paused. “Maybe instead of talking to Esmeralda, I’ll work on getting him alone.”

  “I’m not sure I like that idea.” Greg tapped me on the butt as I walked away.

  The guy knew I was head over heels for him. I didn’t use the L word, but he knew. He was a trained investigator; how could he not? I joined the group.

  “I shouldn’t let you in. I can’t believe they’re going to tear this place down, not after so many years. Don’t they understand the value of history?”

  “Mr. . . .” Darla paused as she didn’t appear to know his name.

  “Young. David Young. And don’t be trying to convince me you all will respect the house. I see your supplies over there. The last group left enough beer cans all over to start a new brewery.” Sunlight flashed on the hawk necklace he wore. He pointed toward the stack of boxes of beer. Running a hand through his thinning gray hair, he sighed and pulled the keys out of his pants. “I guess I have no choice. They’re still paying me to deal with these things, so I’ll let you in. But the door locks automatically exactly at nine. If you’re not inside, you might as well go home because I’m not going to come to let you back in.”

  “What time do the locks open?” Matt kept pace with David, although it wasn’t hard since the guy must have been in his nineties. In all the time I’d lived in South Cove, I hadn’t met this guy at all. I wondered if there was anything on the Internet about him. Everyone has secrets. Maybe this David’s were interesting.

  “Six a.m. Then they’ll lock again Saturday night at nine.” He unlocked the front door and swung the door open. “So don’t get locked out because I’m . . .”

  “Not coming to let us in. I get it.” Darla glanced around the man and into the foyer. “Anything we should know?”

  “Like the upstairs bath is haunted and the elevator doesn’t work?” David laughed as her eyes widened.

  “Seriously?” Darla’s question was almost a whisper.

  He shook his head. “Do people just get stupider around Halloween? Or are you always like that?”

  Flame red burst onto Darla’s cheeks. She pushed past him and into the house. “Thank you for finally showing up to let us inside. We’ll be out by two on Sunday, just like agreed.”

  “Don’t call me. Don’t tear up anything. And don’t burn the house down.” He moved toward his car, but I heard his last comment: “Although it wouldn’t matter now. The house will be gone in less than a month.”

  Chapter 2

  Greg glanced around the bedroom we’d claimed as our own. It had a bed with a lace cover that looked like it was so old it might fall apart if you touched it. “You want me to spread our sleeping bags out on that or the floor?”

  “Do you think it will hold us?” I pushed on the corner of the bed. “I don’t want to break it.”

  “Like the guy said, the place will be torn down soon. We might as well be comfortable for our stay.” He unrolled the first sleeping bag and put it and two pillows on top of the bed. Then he put another sleeping bag on top. “Not like we’ll get much sleep anyway.”

  “I think you’re overestimating your charm, buddy.” I glanced at the antique dresser and vanity on the other side of the room.

  “I was talking about our hanging out with our friends and telling scary stories.” He cocked his head and put on a full-watt grin. “What were you thinking about, missy?”

  “None of your business.” I tried to keep my expression neutral even though I knew my ears were burning bright red. Opening one of the drawers, I gasped. “There’s still clothes in here. What happened to the people who used to live here?”

  “Apparently, Esmeralda has that story. We’re supposed to stash our gear and get downstairs. She’s going to tell us a story to start our weekend right.” Greg closed the drawer. “Let’s go play with our friends.”

  We made our way downstairs and found the group in the living room. A cooler filled with ice and drinks sat in the middle of the room. Then on the side, someone had set up a table with all kinds of snacks. Greg grabbed beers and we took the last two seats on the couch.

  “Finally. I thought we were going to have to go up and throw a pan of ice on you two.” Amy gave me a look. “Were you getting busy?”

  “No.” I shot her a quick glance. “And if we were, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Oh, come on. It would be a secret betwe
en the two of us.” Amy grinned.

  Justin leaned over and high fived Greg. “And the rest of us sitting here listening to you chat. Not to be rude or anything, but I’m dying to know what happened to the former occupant of Casa Condemned.”

  “I’ve got some of the story.” Esmeralda sat cross-legged on the floor next to Jake’s chair. His eyes were closed and his fingers pressed down on his legs. He looked like my last yoga instructor, except he wasn’t calling out poses. He was just sitting there, silent.

  Darla pulled out a notebook. “Go ahead. What did you find out?”

  “Well, it took some research, but this house was built by one of the founders of South Cove. He and his family lived here until the last daughter’s grandchild died. Then the house passed to a cousin who moved out from Alabama. She was a single woman, which was unusual for the time, but it’s claimed she was a healer.” Esmeralda looked up at the group. “That was in 1960. Everyone thought California was just filled with hippies and drug addicts. This woman lived a quiet life helping others.”

  “So what happened to her?” I grabbed a handful of chips.

  “The tax records show she paid her tax the day it was due, every year, until fifteen years ago. Then she didn’t.” Esmeralda looked at Greg. “I looked up missing persons cases from back then and someone had called in an anonymous tip that she was hurt in the house. But when the police opened the door, no one was here. And no one came back. The case closed about a year later.”

  I glanced over at Greg, who held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I’ve been here only four years. This was way before I was in charge.”

  “And?” Darla prompted Esmeralda.

  She shrugged. “And nothing. There’s no other records except the tax records that showed her nonpayment.”

  “No body? No trace?” My gaze drifted to the picture window that looked out over the beach and the ocean. “Maybe she got swept into the ocean and died.”

  “Maybe. But no one found her body. Or a suicide note. Or any clue.” Esmeralda pulled a Ouija board out of a tote bag. “We could try to reach her. Maybe she’s trapped in the house somehow?”

  Jake put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should wait until dark when the doors are locked. You’d hate to be interrupted during this sensitive ritual.”

  Justin checked his watch. “Okay, we have an hour before nine. Who wants to go explore the house before it gets dark in here? I’m not sure the lights in all these rooms work. We can meet back here right at nine and Esmeralda can do her mumbo jumbo.”

  The look she gave him should have singed his hair at least.

  “Sorry. But I’m just not a believer. But I do believe in history. It tells us all kinds of stories through the artifacts we can discover.” Justin pointed to Greg and me. “You two head to the attic and see what you can find. Amy and I will go to the basement. And Darla and Matt, you take the second floor. Esmeralda, you and Jake can take this floor.”

  “There are old clothes in the dresser in our room.” I met Darla’s gaze. “I think maybe that was hers.”

  Everyone stood except Esmeralda.

  “Are you coming?” Jake crouched next to her.

  She opened her eyes. “I can’t reach anyone. If there is a spirit here, she’s not willing to talk right now.”

  Jake held his hand out and she took it, lifting herself off the floor. “Maybe she’ll be more talkative later.”

  “Maryanne. Her name’s Maryanne.”

  Darla froze. “Did she just tell you that?”

  A smile crease Esmeralda’s lips. “No dear, I got it off the tax records. Maryanne Demerit.”

  As we climbed the stairs to the attic, I groused to Greg. “I don’t know why we had to get the attic. You know there’s going to be all kinds of bugs up there.”

  “If a spider attacks I’ll protect you.” He pulled me close into a hug. “Unless it’s one of those South American tarantulas. Then you’re on your own.”

  “Such a gentleman.” I paused at the top of the second-floor landing. “I don’t see another flight of stairs. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there won’t be an attic.”

  “Or maybe it’s just behind a door.” Greg started opening doors, then grinned. “Ta-da. And for my next trick, I’ll make an attic appear.”

  I looked around him to the narrow stairs that seemed to go up forever. “If I die here, I’m going to haunt you forever.”

  “Why darling, that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” He gave me a kiss. “That’s for courage. Let’s go exploring. Justin’s expecting us to bring down some things that will expand the story Esmeralda told.”

  I put my hand on his arm, pausing his movement. “Do you really think she can talk to the dead?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen her do some pretty strange things since I hired her. Not saying I believe, but I wouldn’t say she couldn’t.” Greg shrugged. “You’re not much for this scary stuff, are you?”

  “I like my ghost stories in a book, not ones you live during a weekend.” I took a deep breath. “We might as well get this over with.”

  “Now that’s the spirit. I love a girl with an open mind.” Greg started up the stairs, then held his hand back to help me up.

  I batted it away. “I can make it by myself.”

  A soft chuckle was the only response I got. The light dimmed as we climbed but then Greg opened a door and disappeared off the stairs. I followed him into a large attic. The rafters were bare and I could see a couple of bird nests in the higher peaks. Two windows mirrored each other at each end of the room. Boxes lined the walls and a small rocking crib sat lonely under a window. A doll lay underneath a homemade quilt. And a pillow sat in the crib. A name had been embroidered on the pillow. “Ariel,” I whispered.

  A flock of birds flew up to the window, banging their wings against the glass and causing me to jump. Greg put a hand on my shoulder. “Relax, tough guy. It was just birds.”

  “Maybe.” I stared at the crib and pillow. Thinking about all the stuff Miss Emily had in her house when she left it to me, I decided it wasn’t surprising to see stuff like this. “I guess this must be from the first family who lived here. They’d all died and Maryanne inherited. That would have included the stuff in the house, right?”

  “More than likely. Unless they had another relative to give it to.” Greg studied my face. “What are you thinking about? I can’t read your expressions.”

  “A girl’s got to have some secrets, right?”

  Greg pulled me close. He nuzzled my neck, which made me go all crazy and he knew it. Whispering in my ear, he said, “Maybe you should just tell me.”

  “I . . .” My words were cut short when we heard footsteps on the stairs.

  Justin peeked in, his head near the floor as he had stopped climbing. “Hey, you two. Come downstairs, you’ve got to see this.”

  And then he retreated. Greg pointed to the stairwell. “You just remember, this was all your big idea. I wanted to go to Napa Valley for the weekend. You let Amy talk you into this.”

  “It will be fun, they said . . .” I laughed and made my way down the stairs. When we got to the first floor, the living room was empty. Justin peeked around the doorway into the kitchen.

  “Come on, you two. I swear, you’re the slowest people I’ve ever met.” Justin turned and disappeared again.

  “Where at in Napa? That little B and B we love so much?” I glanced at my watch. We still had ten minutes before the doors locked. Maybe we should just leave and let the ghost hunters have their fun. “I could grab our bags and meet you in the truck in five.”

  “Oh, no. You’re seeing this through. Besides, you might just have fun.” Greg angled me into the kitchen where Justin was standing at the door to the cellar.

  “You are not going to believe this.” He’d grabbed his phone on his way through the living room.
Then he took off down the stairs, expecting us to follow.

  “What do you think? Dead body or priceless treasure?” I grabbed the shaky handhold and started my way down to find the group.

  “I’d put my money on priceless treasure. Justin doesn’t seem the type to handle a dead body this calmly,” Greg said. I could feel his body on the step above me. The man gave off heat like a steam radiator. Me, I always felt chilled. Especially when I was climbing down into an unknown cellar in a supposedly haunted house.

  The history Esmeralda hadn’t mentioned was the strange lights you’d see on at the house. Greg had told me he’d sent several officers out to check the status of the house in the last few years after people had reported seeing someone on the top floor. The house had always been locked up tight when the officers arrived and the caretaker had been annoyed at being roused out of his bed, once again.

  Now we were going into the basement. I was still betting on a dead body. Probably the woman who’d lived here so many years ago. Maryanne.

  When we got to the bottom no one was in the large room. The cellar had a dirt floor and sandstone walls. I touched a block and the chill of the room shot through me. “This place must be murder to keep heated.”

  Greg shown his flashlight up to the rafters where the kitchen sat. “No insulation in the floorboards. It would keep the main floor cool in the summer, but yeah, winters would be a problem.”

  “Maybe it was built as a summer house?” Voices came out of the room to the left and I moved toward them. When I opened the door, everyone was standing around a table in the middle of the room. A lantern had been lit and the watery light shown out to the walls where shelves had been built. And filled. Every shelf was filled with boxes or bottles. Their labels faded from the years of waiting. Waiting to be used.