Mysteries of Holt House - A Mystery

by Marja McGraw

  “I know, dear, but there’s just no telling. I only hope he doesn’t decide to come back here.”

  “He’s already here.” A strong voice came from the entryway.

  Amelia’s heart began to pound as she turned to see who was speaking, hoping she was hearing things, but knowing it was him.

  “It’s all over for you two, you know.” His voice sounded far too calm for someone on the run.

  George stood up, and as he did so the man took a step forward. George saw a flash of silver as the man turned the knife he held in his hand. Grabbing Amelia’s arm, George pulled her up, dragging her behind him as he left the house through the patio door. He knew this man didn’t make idle threats, and he had a scar on his face to prove it.

  They started toward the front of the house, but Amelia fell.

  “I can’t get up. It’s my ankle.” Panic resonated in her words.

  George lifted her and rushed to the car. The laughter he heard as he’d run out the door still rang in his ears.

  “Got to get you in the car,” he said, pulling open the door and shoving Amelia in. “We’ll get help.”

  He dug his keys out of his pocket while locking his door. He was shaking, but he managed to insert the right key and start the engine, and he began to drive off the property.

  Amelia had second thoughts.

  “George,” she cried, “we’ve got to go back! We can’t just leave him. You know we can’t do that. Turn back!”

  “No!” George said as he pushed the gas pedal closer to the floor. They were almost to the end of the drive. Everything was happening too fast. George slowed before turning onto the road and stepping on the gas again.

  Something snapped inside Amelia as George sped up, trying to get away. She glanced back toward the house and saw the man standing in the driveway. What she didn’t know was that the tears she saw on his face were tears of laughter, not tears of sorrow.

  “We’re going back!” She grabbed the steering wheel, trying to force her husband to turn the car around.

  “No!” he yelled. “Let go of the steering wheel, Amelia! I can’t keep the car on the road.” He struggled with his wife but it was too late.

  The crash was like a single boom of thunder as they hit the tree. The man standing in the driveway laughed even harder before turning and heading back into the house.

  When a passerby stopped to help at the scene of the accident, George’s last thought was that he couldn’t let anyone know the truth about what had happened. He died trying to protect the man he both loved and feared.

  Chapter Five

  “See?” Sharon said. “I told you I heard she was nuts. She went berserk – you heard him.”

  “Oh, Sharon. We don’t know if that story is true or not,” I replied.

  “Well, I know that most of it is true,” Jasper said. “At least I know Mr. Holt said his wife fell and hurt herself and he was rushing her to the hospital. My cousin, God rest his soul, was the guy who stopped to help them. And Mr. Holt did say his wife was pretty upset. Now whether or not she went off the deep end, I can’t rightly say.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “By the way, do you know what ever happened to the housekeeper they had?” Sharon asked.

  “Haven’t a clue,” he replied. “She left the area in a hurry and no one ever heard from her again.”

  The house was three stories with a large covered porch in the front, and a patio off to the side. The patio had obviously been added at a later date since the house was so old.

  We entered the house and stood in a small entryway. By turning left we would enter the living room, but if we walked straight ahead we’d come to the stairs that led to the second and third floors. I looked up the stairs, almost expecting to see someone standing and watching us. I shook off the feeling of being watched and followed Jasper.

  We turned left and entered the living room, where we found hardwood floors covered by the largest braided rug I’d ever seen. There was a brick fireplace against one wall with an ornate mantle over it. I could see a spot where a picture had once hung. I had a feeling the portrait I’d bought would fit perfectly.

  “That’s odd. I could swear the furniture has been moved around. Oh well, probably just my imagination.” Jasper shrugged his shoulders and began opening drapes to let the light in.

  My gaze took in the rest of the room and I saw the house was eclectic in style, probably due to additions and changes done over the years, but it all worked together. There was a picture window overlooking part of the porch.

  Two doors led out of the living room. One led to a library where I found wall to wall bookshelves, a game table and a huge oak desk. An overstuffed chair sat by a lamp – just right for reading.

  The other door led to a formal dining room. There was a decorative hutch in one corner and a buffet in the other. A large dining table dominated the room. I noticed most of the furniture was oak, and the dining set was no exception. It was large enough to seat approximately sixteen people, which would work perfectly with my plans. I wondered why the Holts would have needed such a large table until I remembered they’d bought it with the house.

  From the dining room you could either exit onto the patio, or go into the kitchen. The kitchen also had a door which led onto the patio. Looking out the door, I realized there was room for a swimming pool between the patio and the garden. The little tiny wheels in my brain started spinning again.

  At the rear of the kitchen there was a small room which had been converted to a laundry room. Also at the rear of the kitchen was a hallway leading to the servants’ quarters.

  There were four bedrooms for the servants. They weren’t as big as the rooms upstairs, I was sure, but they were still larger than normal, and there was one bathroom to accommodate all four rooms.

  We climbed the stairs and found there were five bedrooms and three bathrooms on each of the upper levels, with a linen closet at the front of each floor. There were two bedrooms on each side of the hallway, with one master bedroom at the back of the house on each level.

  It was wonderfully roomy, and after I opened the shutters at one of the windows, it was quite light and cheerful. It wasn’t a spooky old house after all. It only needed some light.

  We took our time touring the house, then returned to the living room and sat down to talk. I had questions for Jasper. I was more comfortable with my decision as each question was answered.

  “Well, that’s it,” Jasper said. “What do you think?”

  “I want it,” I replied. I knew I was being too easy, but it was an auction so I didn’t need to worry about a Realtor or owner jacking up the price. “When is the auction?”

  “It’s a week from tomorrow.” Jasper gave me the details and told me if I had any questions to call him. We shook hands and I thanked him for his time.

  The drive home was a quiet trip.

  “You know, at first I thought this was a ridiculous idea,” Sharon said.

  I turned and frowned at her.

  “Well, I have to be honest, don’t I?” she said. “But anyway, after seeing the place, I’m beginning to think maybe you could pull this off. I don’t know if you’ll have boarders or vacationers, but it’s a great house. Lots of atmosphere.”

  “I thought you said it was spooky,” I reminded her.

  “I did. Some people might actually like the spooky stories that come with the place. You know how people can be.”

  “No matter,” I said. “Some people want to live out of town, and some want to get away for a vacation, and I’d have room for both. I’ve really thought this through, and I figure I could have a pool and tennis court installed, and add onto the patio. Enlarge it. And there’s always hiking. I could even fill up the library for those who like to read. I can make the rounds of the secondhand book shops so there will be all kinds of books. And – ”

  “You think you’ve got this all figured out, don’t you,” Sharon interrupted.

  “You have no idea how much t
hought has gone into this. I’ve got pages and pages of ideas written down. When the thoughts started coming, I just couldn’t stop them.”

  “You know? I’m feeling kind of excited, too.”

  “I figure I’ll have to hire a housekeeper who can cook and a handyman who can double as gardener. Of course, I’ll be doing part of the housework and cooking myself.”

  “Of course,” Sharon replied. “I wouldn’t expect less from you. I may have found your first boarder for you, too.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I’m not. I’d love to get out of town and I think we’d have a great time. I’m not going to quit my job, but I could help you out in some ways. I hate housework, but I’m a great cook and I could do the meals, at least the dinners, on the cook’s days off.”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you, but are you sure about this?”

  “I’m absolutely positive. It would be fun, and it would be cheaper for me, paying for a room instead of an apartment.”

  “Cheaper than you think. If you’re going to help out, I’m not going to charge you for a room.” I suddenly felt very generous.

  “Yes, you will. You can’t make any money if you give rooms away. A discount is fine with me though, and will be greatly appreciated.”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” I said, feeling my spirits lift.

  The next week passed slowly. I was anxious to get the auction over which made the time drag. I called Jasper when it struck me that I’d seen telephone lines going out to the house, but nothing resembling power lines.

  “There are power lines close enough to run out to the house,” he explained. “In the past, generators were used.”

  I was surprised that the Holts had been such pioneers. Thanks to them, if the electricity went out, the generators were still there. Propane was used for heat and was trucked in, and there were wells on the property for water. That was fine with me. A small price to pay to live out in the country.

  “By the way, did you ask your supervisor about the books Mrs. Holt kept?”

  “Yes, he said you can have the household books.” Jasper also told me no one else had shown interest in the house yet – music to my ears.

  I found myself spending many spare moments during that week studying the portrait of Mrs. Holt. To say she fascinated me was an understatement. I still couldn’t get past our resemblance to each other. I even called my mother and asked her if she was keeping anything from me.

  My mother laughed. “It really is just a coincidence, sweetheart. I saw Mrs. Holt in town a few times, and in person the resemblance isn’t so strong.”

  “Thanks for setting my mind at ease, Mom.”

  We hung up and I turned to the painting. “I sure wish I could figure you out. I wish you could open your mouth and answer some questions. Oh, well...”

  The auction finally rolled around and there was only one other bid besides mine. To my delight, I was able to outbid the other person. The house cost less because of being sold through auction and I would be buying it outright. It would be mine as soon as all the red tape was cleared away. It didn’t take too long to process the paperwork, and in a month I was able to move in.

  I took my high back rocker, personal possessions and a few of my “yard sale specials” with me, and had a yard sale of my own to dispose of my other furniture. My rocker was the only thing I absolutely refused to part with.

  I didn’t have much work to do when I arrived at the house. It was a little disconcerting, but someone had come in and cleaned the entire place for me, and after checking I found it wasn’t the agent or his people. The furniture was even rearranged so that it enhanced the appearance of the house. I hung the portrait of Mrs. Holt over the fireplace in the formal living room and everything looked complete. I did some unnecessary dusting, put my personal effects away and made up my bed. I’d bought more bedding and sheets, and purchased all new bedspreads for the bedrooms. I wouldn’t make up the other beds until I had guests.

  I thought it over and decided that I didn’t want my room to be on the same floor as the guests’ rooms, so I took possession of the largest of the servants’ rooms. I put my rocker by the window. The room was set off from the others, so I’d still have my privacy.

  It was such a large house. I couldn’t help but wonder why the Holts had bought it since there were only the two of them and they never entertained. Living in an old house meant I had to put up with some creaking and occasional groaning, but that was okay once I realized no one was sneaking around upstairs. It was mine.

  After settling in and fixing myself soup and a sandwich, I realized I was exhausted. So much had happened, and it was finally catching up to me. I slept well the first night in my new home. The peace was glorious. Even the sound of the crickets didn’t bother me. Their chirping was like a lullaby.

  What did it matter that I was all alone in a big, very old and creaky, three-story house?

  Chapter Six

  I called a couple of employment agencies before moving into Holt House and they were sending applicants out for interviews for the two positions I needed to fill. The handyman would start work within a week, but the cook wouldn’t be needed for about a month. I felt I could have the rooms filled within that timeframe, and until then I could do the cooking and cleaning myself.

  I also had the telephones connected a couple of days before moving in, so early in the morning I called to place an ad which would run in a few different newspapers in the surrounding cities, looking for boarders or vacationers who wanted a great place to stay. Later on I’d need to look into broader advertising to attract more vacationers.

  My first interviewee showed up bright and early, and turned out to be completely wrong. Mrs. Lomley didn’t do more things than she did do. The interview didn’t last long.

  The second interview for a housekeeper/cook wasn’t much better.

  “I must reside in town,” Ms. Waters informed me. “I can’t stand all the noise your boarders would make at night. Also, I don’t wash windows, nor do I want to have anything to do with your boarders. I don’t wish to be in a social situation. It’s so taxing. I just want to do my job and go home. And I won’t be arriving until at least ten o’clock in the morning,” she added.

  “I see. However, I need someone here no later than six-thirty in the morning because of serving breakfast to the boarders. There will also be tasks which need to be performed, such as windows. It can’t be avoided. Of course, I’ll get professionals to do the upstairs windows. In addition to that, there would be contact with the boarders. There’s no way it can be avoided.”

  Her back stiffened. “Impossible. I have to think of myself and get the proper rest. The doctor said no stress or strain. I’m too delicate.”

  “Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to get your rest on someone else’s time,” I said. “This is job requiring hard work and dedication. I’m afraid your delicate sensibilities will have to find work elsewhere.”

  “Well, I never – ”

  “You’re absolutely right. You’ll never work here.”

  Ms. Waters slammed the door on her way out – not too delicately.

  The third interview was for a handyman/gardener, and Mr. Janis made it quite clear that he was looking for more than gardening and fixing things – he wanted to be my personal handyman. That was another very short interview.

  I was pacing around the living room, mumbling to myself, when there was a knock on the door. I struggled to make myself smile before opening it.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Mrs. Daley, but you can call me Lucy.” She smiled at me like an old friend.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” I said. There was something about Mrs. Daley that grabbed me right off the bat.

  I invited her in and we sat on the couch, facing each other.

  “The agency sent me over. They tell me you need a housekeeper who can cook.”

  “I sure do. This may sound a little abrupt, but you have no idea how this day has gone so f
ar. What don’t you do?”

  “I can take care of any reasonable chore,” she replied, laughing. “There’s very little I can’t do. I have good references, too.” She reached into her purse and produced some letters. I read them and smiled. They were personal letters of recommendation from friends and acquaintances, and they sufficed for my purposes because she was being honest.

  “Are you willing to live out here? It would be room and board plus salary, with Mondays and Tuesdays off.”

  “Sure. I’m a widow and I’m looking forward to living in the country. I’m from Los Angeles. I haven’t worked as a housekeeper before, but it can’t be much different from personal housekeeping, just on a larger scale, and I’m a great cook. I’ve cooked for large groups in the past.”

  We talked about her qualifications a bit more, and discussed salary. She was so easy to talk to that I felt like I was visiting with an old friend.

  “Lucy, you’re hired. The job will begin in a month. Does that work for you?”

  “Well, would it put you out if I were to move in now? At no salary of course, and I could pay you for the room. I have nowhere to stay. I’ve been in a motel since I got to town, and I’m running low on funds. Those motels can be pretty expensive if you stay too long.”

  “That’s fine with me. I can use the company. No need to pay me for the room though, I’ll just have you start helping me earlier than I’d planned. The handyman will be starting in a week, maybe less, and I’d prefer not to be alone in the house with whomever I hire,” I said, thinking of the lascivious Mr. Janis.

  “Great! I’ll pick up my things and be back this evening.”

  I walked her to the door and watched her drive away.

  Lucy was a cute little lady and struck me as being spunky. She said she was fifty-four years old, and she had a head of thick mixed gray and white hair, with dark brown eyes. She was about five feet, two inches tall, my height, and had a slightly stocky build. She had a sense of humor, one of my favorite traits in a person. I truly hoped that she would work out. I called the agency and told them the position had been filled.