Fallen Stones

by Thomas M. Malafarina

  Chapter 30

  "Murder suicide?" Stephanie exclaimed. "Oh my Lord!" She looked back to make sure she had not alarmed Sammy with her outburst but saw he was still sitting lethargically staring at the television screen. She didn't even notice that the screen was completely blank. Instead, she refocused on her documents and began to read the details of the story as reported in the mysterious article. She had been familiar with modern day big city newspaper style, short and to the point with little flourish. The article from the box read more like a pulp fiction story than a newspaper article. Perhaps it was because that style of writing was something accepted in small town turn-of-the-century newspapers or maybe it was because nothing so horrendous had ever occurred in the area before. Either way she was surprised by the tone of the narrative writing style.

  The bodies of four local family members were discovered in the early afternoon hours on their small farm located just a few miles outside of Ashton. Although Ashton constables are investigating the occurrence, unofficial reports suggest the unpleasant incident might possibly have been a case of murder-suicide.

  An unidentified informant close to local authorities told the Ashton Daily News the bodies of Dwight and Marie Livingston, ages 32 and 30 respectively, were found on the floor of their bedroom. Mrs. Livingston appeared to have been strangled to death by her husband, who was found with an apparent self-inflicted fatal knife wound across his throat. Two separate knives were found at the scene, one was a kitchen knife, lying apparently unused on the bedroom floor. While the other blade was an ivory handled straight razor, apparently belonging to Mr. Livingston, which was found covered with Mr. Livingston's blood lying next to his dead body.

  "Ivory handled straight razor?" Stephanie exclaimed, recalling the antique razor Jason had found in a cigar box in one of the dresser drawers in the master bedroom. He had been quite surprised to find the implement in such good condition and assumed Emerson Washburn had used it. Jason now used that razor to shave daily. Stephanie wondered if Jason's razor could have possibly been the same blade described in the newspaper article. She hoped to God it was not.

  Stephanie thought about the journal entry she had just read from Marie Livingston and how the woman had said she wanted to slit Dwight's throat with a kitchen knife. But according to what the article read, Dwight may have actually slit his own throat. Although disturbed by the facts unfolding before her eyes, Stephanie wanted to know more.

  Mr. Livingston was found on the floor in a seated position, his back resting against a wall cradling his dead wife's body in his lap. She was said to have been found dressed in an evening gown and covered with Mr. Livingston's blood, which had flowed down from her husband's mortal wound.

  For some unknown reason this scene seemed strangely familiar to Stephanie. It was as if she had seen it played out before, perhaps in a movie. In reality, she had seen this and much more in the series of nightmares she had experienced the night before their first visit to the property months earlier. But as before, she never was able to recall having the dreams.

  Sometime later, police discovered the bodies of the Livingston's two sons, Matthew age six and Charles age four near an open well on the property. Cause of death was presumed to be drowning.

  Details are unsubstantiated at this time, and it is unknown if the drowning was accidental or if either Mr. or Mrs. Livingston may have killed the two boys in a fit of madness by drowning them in the frigid well water. Until more evidence has been gathered, sources said all the police can do at this time is speculate based on what they have seen.

  Our source close to the authorities said the police are considering the possibility that Mrs. Livingston may have drowned her sons as her arms were covered with small scratches of the type one would receive from a struggling child. It was further suggested that Mr. Livingston might have returned home, found the boys then confronted his wife in their bedroom where he apparently strangled her for her part in the foul deed.

  The Livingston bedroom door was found broken and dangling from a single remaining hinge, indicating the husband must have broken it down. If the above scenario were accurate then one could speculate that

  Mr. Livingston, overcome with remorse for his own vile actions in the murder of his wife, may have slashed his own throat with his straight razor eventually succumbing to his wound and dying with her corpse in his arms.

  "Oh my God!" Stephanie said as the tears welled up in her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks. Her breath was coming in short hitching bursts and a buzzing began to ring inside her head making her feel as if she might pass out. Her worst fears had been realized. No. This was far beyond her wildest imaginings. Her great-grandmother, Marie Livingston must have lost her mind upon learning of her husband’s treachery and killed her own two sons in some misguided attempt to get revenge against him. Why or how the woman could do such a thing made no sense to Stephanie and although she knew nothing about insanity, she had to assume Marie had not been in control of her faculties and wasn't completely aware of what she had been doing.

  The bodies of the Livingston parents were discovered in the early afternoon by Mrs. Amelia Miller, sister to Dwight Livingston. Mrs. Miller said she had been returning the Livingston's youngest child, daughter Sarah Louise Livingston, age two, who had been spending the night with the Miller family. Mrs. Miller then sent her carriage driver to the town of Ashton for help. While awaiting arrival of the authorities, she looked about the area for the boys and sadly found their dead bodies next to a well at the back of the property.

  Mrs. Miller, a resident of the town of Ashton was stricken with grief over the tragedy and provided only one comment. She said, "This... this is so incredibly horrible... so unthinkable. Thank God I had Sarah with me or she might have been part of this awful tragedy as well." Mrs. Miller has assumed temporary custody of her niece.

  "Oh my heavens!" Stephanie cried aloud. "This is unbelievable!" Then she began to think again about all of the things she had learned about her family, about Jason's family and was quite certain the newspaper had gotten the story correct.

  Stephanie sat for a moment in silence trying to absorb all she had discovered. From inside the mirror hanging on the back wall of the loft, Marie Livingston stared out with wild and insane eyes, which glowed madly with her sick pleasure. She had accomplished what she needed to accomplish. She had gotten Stephanie to learn the facts of the family tragedy, but that was still not enough. She needed the woman to feel her pain; to experience the events as if she had lived them herself. This was not only important but it was essential for the next part of the plan to evolve as necessary.

  From inside her mirror world, Marie waved one of her gnarled fingers and from the tip of her yellow-brown split nails, a series of sparkling white tiny iridescent lights flew, traveling across the loft area and encircling Stephanie's head. Within a moment, the lights began to sink down through her scalp and enter the top of her skull, implanting themselves deep within her brain.

  Stephanie went into a trance-like state, not unlike that of her son Samuel, who still sat mouth agape staring at the blank TV screen. Stephanie too was now staring out into space, unaware of her surroundings, watching a scene like a movie unfold within her mind.

  She was no longer sitting in her loft but was sitting in the formal living room of the farmhouse. She thought of it as her parlor. It was traditionally a place to meet and entertain guests, decorated in a fine style fashionable during that time period. However, today she was not entertaining anyone in her formal room; she was alone and was contemplating her plans for later that day.

  It was early morning on December 19th, 1922, and Marie had arranged for her sister-in-law Amelia Miller to come and take her daughter Sarah to stay with her and her husband overnight. Marie not only wanted to have Sarah out of the way, but she also wanted to have provisions in place for the child's future care. She knew her actions, which would soon follow, would force Amelia to take the steps necessary to provide this care.

&nb
sp; Amelia loved little Sarah. And as of yet her own marriage had not produced any children, so she treasured any time she could have alone with the child. Marie knew no matter how Amelia might feel about her personally now, or how she was likely to feel about her in the near future, she would be more than willing take Sarah under her wing and love her like one of her own, in the event such a need arose. And Marie was quite certain the need would indeed arise after tonight.

  Marie and Amelia had not always gotten along very well and on occasion, Amelia seemed to act very strange and distant around Marie; perhaps even more so in recent weeks. Marie had to admit her behavior and mannerisms had become a bit eccentric due to the strain she had been feeling from recent developments. She suspected Amelia noticed those erratic behaviors and she might simply be reacting to them. Then again, Dwight was her only brother and perhaps Amelia sensed the strain in their marriage and was distancing herself from Marie in order to be loyal to her brother. As they say, blood is thicker than water.

  Amelia arrived by carriage about 9:15 am and entered the house where Marie sat waiting with Sarah and her small travel case. When Marie opened the front door for Amelia, little Sarah ran to greet her, hugging her legs.

  "Hello, Marie," Amelia said, lightly grasping her sister-in-law in an obligatory but not heart-felt embrace. "I trust all is well with Dwight and the boys."

  Marie couldn't help but notice how any well wish for her was blatantly missing from the statement. Whether intentional or not, it was obvious to Marie.

  "All is as well as can be expected, I suppose," Marie replied cryptically. She didn’t intend to discuss any of the marital problems she was having, with her husband's sister of all people. Besides, Marie suspected if half the town of Ashton knew of Dwight's philandering, then it was likely Amelia did as well.

  "And so where are Dwight and the boys today?" Amelia said with an unusual tone in her voice, or perhaps Marie only imagined it.

  Marie replied, "They are all fine. Dwight is away for the day on business and should be arriving later this evening. The boys are out in the fields playing and doing whatever it is boys do in such situations."

  "Those boys are adorable," Amelia said. "They remind me so much of their father when he was a boy."

  This statement caused Marie to twitch slightly as if she had been stung or bitten by an insect. "Yes..." Marie said trying to regain her composure. "I had been thinking the very same thing. The boys adore their father and I wouldn't be at all surprised if they grew up to be just like him."

  When Amelia heard Marie say this, the look in the woman's eyes did not match the look of pride, which such a statement should have invoked. Instead, it appeared as if Marie might be disappointed at the idea of her boys growing up to be like their father. She could not comprehend this, as she loved her brother and was proud of the way he provided so handsomely for his wife and children. Her own husband did his best to earn a living but he would never be as successful as Dwight. In Amelia’s opinion, Marie should not only be proud of her husband but should worship the ground he walked on. Marie never shared that sentiment, and especially not of late.

  "Well then," Amelia said after a few moments of awkward silence, realizing she had nothing else to say to her sister-in-law. "I suppose we should be on our way." With that Amelia and Sarah entered the carriage and the driver headed down the lane to being the trip back to Ashton. "We will see you tomorrow late morning then. Say hello to Dwight and the boys for me. Sorry I missed them."

  Marie replied, "I certainly will." But in her heart, she knew by the time Amelia returned with Sarah, the boys would be dead and hopefully their father would be as well. Her own future would be uncertain but she suspected the rest of her life would be either spent rotting away in prison or dangling from a rope; that would be up to the courts.

  The scene in Stephanie's mind suddenly changed to dusk, later that same day. She was now inside the body of Marie Livingston and was staggering out toward the back of the property, where a large open well stood looking like a small stone edifice sprouting from the ground. It was round and constructed of large fieldstones and stood about three feet high.

  As she approached the well, each of Marie's hands held tightly to the tiny hands of her sons, Matthew, age six and Charles age four. The boys seemed to sense something was very wrong as they were struggling to break her tight grasp.

  "Mommy. Stop," Matthew said. "Where are you taking us Mommy? Please. Mommy, we're afraid. You look so angry Mommy. What did we do? Please stop Mommy. We'll be good. We promise. We won't be bad boys anymore."

  Charles didn't speak, he just cried, probably egged on by the obvious terror in Matthew's pleading voice. This begging was futile as it fell upon deaf ears. Marie was too far-gone for rational thought or to succumb to the pleas of the terrified boys; Dwight's boys, as she now thought of them. She had a plan and a mission, and no force in Heaven or Hell could stop her.

  Young Charles held a small stuffed bear in his free hand. It was his favorite toy, given to him by Dwight. Marie ignored their cries for help and continued to drag the boys onward. She kept repeating in her mind and mumbling incoherently, "Just like your father. You look like him. You act like him. Someday you will end up being whoremongers just like him. Not if I can help it. Oh no. Not if I can help it."

  Dwight had constructed a cover for the well out of timber to prevent any young children from accidentally falling into it. The trap door of this cover was always kept closed and secured with a lock, the key for which he kept high in a cabinet in the kitchen. The depth of the well was such that a man or even young teenager could have successfully climbed out. In fact, a fully-grown adult could lean into the well and with a bit of stretching could touch the top surface of the water. However, small children would never have been able to escape its depth, nor scale its slippery sides. Marie had come out earlier in the day with the key and opened the top of the well.

  When she reached the side of the well she stopped for a moment, then without a word of explanation, she lifted the smallest boy, Charles by one hand over the side of the well and dropped him screaming into the icy water below. As he flew through the air, he dropped his stuffed bear onto the frozen meadow near the well. Then Marie bent and using both hands lifted Matthew. He fought, scratched and clawed at her arms in a futile attempt to get free of her grasp, but his only freedom came during those few seconds as he was hurled through the air seeing the icy blackness of the well below rapidly approaching.

  Marie stood at the top of the well looking down at the boys and began screaming maniacally as tears streamed down her cheeks. "He made me do this. Your father made me do this. You are both so much like your father. Just like your whore-loving worthless father. You will never get the chance to do to anyone what he did to me." From below, she heard the boys' cries and pleas for help but stood above watching them bob in the icy water below, without an ounce of sympathy for them. If she had a last minute change of heart she could have reached in and saved one if not both of them, but she was too far-gone for that. The boys soon came together and hugged each other in and final attempt to get warm before eventually succumbing to the frigid December temperatures and drowning in each other's arms. "Just like your father." She said breathlessly, "The both of you. Just like your father. And soon he will be just like you. Dead. Just like the both of you."

  Dwight Livingston slowly made his way up the long dirt and gravel roadway, which led to his house from the main road. His model T Ford chugged and sputtered nosily up the frozen drive, occasionally slipping and sliding as plumes of smoke and steam billowed around it in the cold night air. Dwight was one of the first people in the area able to afford a motor vehicle and as such was probably prouder of this possession than just about anything else he owned. As he approached the house, he saw some activity out in the back of his property near the well. In the bright moonlight, he could see a woman in a white nightgown staring down into his well.

  Marie turned hearing her husband's car approaching in t
he distance and decided she had better head back to the house. She glanced over and saw Dwight leaving his Model T and start walking across the meadow toward her. She hurried away, trampling Charles' stuffed toy into the slush and mud as she did. When she was about a third of the way to the house, Dwight had made it about half the distance to the well. He saw Marie storming back toward the house. At first, he was going to call out to her to let her know he was home, but suddenly he realized something felt very wrong.

  Dwight got a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach and looking out at the direction from where Marie had come he noticed the top cover of the well was removed. Only he or Marie knew where the key for the well was kept. Then he looked back at Marie and saw she didn’t have a bucket or any means of carrying water. So why was she at the well if not to get water? As he approached the well, he saw something on the ground smashed into the wet snow covered soil. In an instant, he recognized the object as the stuffed bear he had recently brought home for little Charles.

  "Oh my God, no!" he screamed silently in his mind and using his walking stick for support, began to hurry toward the well, hoping not to find what he somehow knew he would find.

  When he got to the well, he bent down and picked up Charles' toy then headed straight for the opening. The boys knew not to play near the well; he had told them so and they knew they were forbidden to play there. The boys always obeyed their father's requests. There was absolutely no way they would have come this close to the well without either he or Marie bringing them here. And he was quite certain they would be terrified to come near. He had done a good job of making them fearful of the dangers.

  With dread building deep in the pit of his stomach, Dwight peered unwillingly down over the side of the well where he saw his two beloved sons entwined in a last embrace of death, bobbing in the frigid, but not yet frozen water below. Without hesitation, he leaned as far as he could into the well and with his long arms was able to grab onto the water-soaked coats of both boys. Pulling with all of his might, he lifted their cold, still bodies from their icy tomb and laid them as gently as possible on the frozen meadow. Their ice glazed bodies seemed to glow iridescent light blue in the moonlight making them look like angels.