Mary Had a Little Scare

by Wendy Meadows

  “What?” Betty asked.

  “The killer certainly knows her…or his…way around this mansion. We ran out of the library in an awful hurry. I’m sure the killer went to check the kitchen…but goodness, it sure didn’t take very long, did it?” Mary stopped rubbing her eyes. “I wonder…I mean…it might be possible that behind these very walls is a very complex series of hallways connected to one another, allowing for private and swift passage.”

  Betty studied the dark green walls. “It’s possible…I guess,” she agreed and then turned back to Mary. “Oh, Mary, I don’t think we’re going to find the dead man we’re searching for. Please, let’s leave this awful place. I would rather take my chance with that awful, mean dog.”

  Mary handed Betty the fire iron she was holding. “We can’t leave,” she said in a tired voice. “We saw a dead body. And after we saw the dead body, and after being locked inside the living room for a short period of time, we were given the opportunity to leave. Why? It doesn’t make sense.” Mary shook her head. “First we were scared inside…and now it seems like we’re being scared off. Why? There has to be a reason, and I want to find that reason.” Mary looked at Betty. “We can’t leave the scene of a murder. Something is very wrong here and we have to find out what.”

  “But…there’s a killer on the loose,” Betty pleaded with Mary. “We could…die.”

  “I don’t think so,” Mary replied. “Not yet, at least. It seems to me, and I could be wrong, that if the killer wanted us both dead, well, we would be dead. There’s a reason we’re being left alive.”

  Betty looked down at the fire iron. “We’re not leaving then, are we?” she asked in a disappointed voice.

  “If we do leave…we might walk into an unseen trap,” Mary warned her.

  Betty let out a heavy sigh. “What now?” she asked.

  Before Mary could answer, someone stepped up to the outside of the door and began opening it. Mary grabbed Betty and ran back to their hiding spot. When the door opened, to their shock, the dead man Mary and Betty had seen lying on the foyer floor appeared.

  “Hello?” a gentle, warm—yet spooky—voice called out. “I know you’re in here. Please come out. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

  Mary and Betty glanced at one another and then focused on a man wearing a deep gray suit holding a silver walking cane in his right hand.

  “That’s…him…that’s the dead man,” Betty whispered. And then, to Mary’s horror, she fainted.

  “No,” Mary begged.

  “Hello?” the man called out. “Are you over there hiding in the corner? Please come out. There has been a terrible misunderstanding.”

  Mary gently placed Betty’s head down onto the floor, grabbed the fire iron, drew in a scared breath, and stepped out from behind the suit of armor she was hiding behind. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “Ah, there you are,” the man said in a pleased voice. He stepped into the room and closed the door. “I’m Ralph McCane. Brenda told me we had guests in the house.”

  Mary stared at Ralph with confused, careful eyes. “Where is Brenda?” she asked.

  “Brenda has decided to retire for the night,” Ralph explained. “When she informed me that she did not offer you the proper greeting, I became very dismayed and set out to find you myself. Brenda can be very rude at times, I’m afraid. I have spoken to her about her ill manners, but she never listens to me.”

  Mary kept her distance from Ralph. “We…saw you lying dead on the foyer floor. Brenda claims you were pulling a gag,” she said without mentioning the shadowy figure wearing the dark cloak.

  Ralph sighed. “I’m afraid the only dead person around is my dear old wife.” Ralph shook his head. “My wife is not dead yet, but Doctor Mills doesn’t expect her to live much longer, I’m afraid.”

  “I saw you lying dead,” Mary told Ralph in a stern voice. “I want to focus on you, not your wife.”

  “But madam,” Ralph said in a confused voice, “as you can clearly see with your own eyes…I am not dead. I am alive—very much alive.”

  Mary felt frustration grip her tired and exhausted mind. “I saw you lying dead on the foyer floor,” she insisted. “The storm caused me to run my car into a flooded ditch. My friend and I were forced to leave my car and search for help. We came across this mansion. When I knocked on the front door, no one answered—but then someone opened the front door. And then an awful, mean dog chased me and my friend inside. That’s when we saw your body,” Mary explained, forcing her voice to remain somewhat calm. “My friend and I were then locked inside the living room for a short time…and then Cousin Brenda appeared…” Mary paused. She wasn’t ready to tell Ralph about the bookshelf in the library opening or the shadowy figure she had seen. It was time to let Ralph speak and see what words she could capture, evaluate, and make sense of with her mind.

  “Oh dear,” Ralph said in a worried voice, “that is quite a story.” Ralph took a step toward Mary. “My dear, did you happen to hit your head when your car ran off the road? Perhaps you need a doctor.”

  Mary stared in shock. Was Ralph really suggesting she was imagining the horrors of the night? “I didn’t hit my head,” Mary assured him in a stern voice. “I know what I saw. I saw you…lying dead on the foyer floor with a knife…stuck in your back.”

  “My dear, I’m very much alive.”

  “So you are,” Mary sighed. She shook her head. “Okay…uh…can you please help us get into town?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound desperate for help. It was clear that Ralph was not only an eccentric, wealthy man—but a very clever chess player as well. Mary knew in order to gain ground she needed to retreat into a corner and play the helpless victim. “All I want to do is go home. It’s obvious someone played a very awful prank on my friend. We are not pleased…but what’s done is done.”

  Mary’s words seemed to please Ralph. “Of course, my dear,” he said and then added: “First thing tomorrow I’ll make arrangements for you to travel into town.”

  Mary nodded and tried not to frown. Brenda had mentioned there was no telephone inside the mansion. So how was Ralph going to make the proper arrangements? Mary knew Ralph had no intention of making any sort of arrangements whatsoever. The man was obviously very clever…and very deadly. “Just make sure that awful dog is put away.”

  “Of course,” Ralph promised. “The watch dog is only allowed to roam free during the night hours. During the daylight hours he is housed in a secure location.” Ralph tossed a pale, mysterious—and very creepy—smile at Mary. “I can show you and Betty to your rooms now, if you wish?”

  Ralph’s smile caused Mary to shiver all over. “Perhaps we can…get something to eat? And some coffee could be nice, too.”

  “Of course,” Ralph assured Mary in his easy voice.

  Mary glanced over her shoulder toward the far corner of the room. “Oh,” she whispered and decided to run back to Betty. “Betty, wake up,” she begged.

  Betty’s eyes fluttered and slowly opened. “Mary…I just had the most awful dream…”

  “You’re not dreaming,” Mary said and gently helped Betty raise her head. She pointed toward Ralph. “Now don’t faint on me again, please,” she begged.

  Betty’s weak eyes landed on Ralph. “The…dead man,” she whispered. Her eyes grew wide and began to roll back in her head. Mary quickly shook her shoulders. “I…oh my,” Betty gasped, managing to remain conscious.

  “Can you stand up?”

  “I…think so,” Betty answered.

  Mary dropped the fire iron and helped Betty stand to her feet. “Easy now,” she said and quickly scooped the fire iron back up and eased Betty into the middle of the room.

  “Ah, you must be Cousin Betty,” Ralph said in a pleased voice. “How nice it is to finally meet you. I told my dear wife I’ve been very anxious to meet her family but…she has refused me that honor.” Mary heard bitterness hinder Ralph’s voice for a mere second. “You are as lovely as my mind imagined you.”r />
  “Uh…thank you…Uncle Ralph, is it?” Betty asked and grabbed Mary’s left hand.

  “Ah, Uncle Ralph.” Ralph smiled. “Now isn’t that nice.”

  “I…suppose,” Betty answered in a confused voice. She looked at Mary for help. Mary’s eyes told Betty to play along—and for the love of all things good: Don’t faint.

  “Uncle Ralph,” Mary said, allowing her voice to sound weary, “may we please have that coffee now? As you can see, we’re both exhausted and in need of sleep.”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  “And can you get our suitcases and purses off the front porch?” Mary asked. “Our dresses are not suitable for sleeping in, I’m afraid.”

  Ralph smiled. “Of course.” He turned, opened the door to the room, and stepped out into the hallway. “This way, please.”

  Mary squeezed Betty’s hand and walked her out into the hallway. Before she could say a word, Brenda appeared at the top of the stairs holding two suitcases. “I put your purses in the living room,” she said and dropped the suitcases down onto the hallway floor. “Now, I’m going to bed.”

  “Ah, just a moment,” Ralph told Brenda in a voice that didn’t sound very kind at all. “Perhaps you can be so kind as to take our guests down to the kitchen and prepare them a late-night sandwich and a cup of coffee. I’ll take their luggage to the guest rooms.”

  “Guest room,” Mary quickly said. “Betty and I want to sleep in the same room.”

  “That’s understandable,” Ralph told Mary, throwing a cold eye at Brenda. “Take our guests down into the kitchen and prepare them a decent sandwich and cup of coffee.”

  Brenda stared at Ralph with sour eyes. “If you insist,” she said and looked at Mary and Betty. “Come on, you two,” she said and marched back down the stairs.

  “Oh, such horrible manners,” Ralph complained.

  “That’s okay,” Mary assured Ralph and hurried after Brenda with Betty in tow. “Play along,” she told Betty as they rushed down the stairs. “Play along and maybe…maybe we’ll live through this strange and confusing night.”

  Mary and Betty followed Brenda into a kitchen the size of a museum, or so it seemed to Mary. The kitchen, to her shock, was very different from the rest of the mansion. If Mary didn’t know better, she would have sworn she’d walked back in time into the old cowboy days. The floor of the kitchen was made of old hardwood that matched rough wooden walls void of art or style. Rustic cabinets hugged the walls, meeting at an old wooden stove sitting hugged up next to a deep sink with an old-fashioned pump attached to it. Bags of flour, sugar, and coffee rested on hard wooden counters, reminding Mary of a cowboy general store you would see in the old west. A long, rectangular table stood in the middle of the kitchen holding a simple basket of fruit and nothing more. But what caught Mary’s attention the most was that the kitchen didn’t have a back door. She did spot a door leading into a long pantry, but not a single door leading outside. “Sit down,” Brenda said in an impatient voice, “and I’ll make you two some coffee and a sandwich.”

  Mary watched Brenda walk over to a 1935 Westinghouse refrigerator and open it. “Let’s rest,” she whispered to Betty. Betty nodded and sat down at the table. Mary sat down next to Betty with her back to the kitchen wall.

  Brenda retrieved a block of cheese. “Cheese sandwich and coffee should be okay,” she said and pointed at the wood stove. “There’s a pot of coffee already heating on the stove. Help yourselves.”

  “In a minute,” Mary said, allowing her mind time to rest. She set the fire iron down next to her and studied Brenda with weary eyes, not sure of what to say or how to proceed. Someone had obviously been hiding behind the library walls. Someone had obviously checked the suit of armor room she and Betty had hidden in. And someone was obviously playing a very cruel game. But was that someone Brenda? “Ralph seemed…nice.”

  “Creepy is the word,” Betty pointed out.

  Mary studied Brenda’s face and then began searching the kitchen counters. She located a knife block sitting close to the kitchen sink. “All the knives are present,” she whispered in a confused voice.

  Brenda placed the cheese down on the kitchen counter and opened a gray and blue bread box. “Ralph is…funny in the head,” Brenda said in an annoyed voice. She looked at Mary and Betty. “I’m still wondering why he would perform such an awful prank on you two. Why, he doesn’t even know you.”

  “But you seem to know me,” Betty told Brenda. “No offense, Cousin Brenda, but I don’t recognize you at all.”

  “How could you?” Brenda asked Betty. “It’s been years. The only way I was able to recognize you is by your nose and hair. You have the same nose and hairstyle from when you were a small girl. Of course, I only saw you on rare occasions, but I have the memory of an elephant.”

  Betty reached up and touched her hair. “I suppose I am a creature of habit.”

  “I’m the complete opposite,” Brenda explained, fetching a sharp kitchen knife and a brown plate. “I attempt to stay friends with the current fashions. I change my hairstyle at least once a month and always wear the most fashionable dresses.”

  Betty glanced at Mary, who shrugged her shoulders. “That’s…always a nice thing to do.”

  Brenda began cutting the bread. “Ralph doesn’t approve of my taste. He insists I waste his precious money on styles that will never improve my…my life.” Brenda shook her head and stabbed the bread. “At times I dream of murdering that man. Tonight, when you told me you found him dead…oh, a girl could only dream.”

  Betty stared at her cousin and felt pity enter her heart. “I’m sorry I was so rude to you earlier,” she apologized. “I was very upset.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Brenda told Betty as she removed the kitchen knife from the bread. “I was very rude myself. Ralph’s pranks annoy me to no end and upset my nerves. And with Mother being close to the grave…well, my heart is very upset.”

  Mary glanced toward the wood stove and decided it was time for a cup of coffee. She stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter. “Where are the coffee cups?” Brenda pointed to one of the cabinets. “Thank you,” Mary said, feeling that her every word was being heard by hidden ears. She opened the cabinet and spotted a row of brown coffee cups. “Coffee?” she asked Brenda.

  Brenda paused, cutting the bread, looked at Mary, and then simply nodded. “I suppose one cup before bed wouldn’t hurt.”

  Mary forced a tired smile to her beautiful face. “I’m sorry I was rude to you. We had quite a shock tonight, and I honestly believed you murdered Ralph.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t laid awake at night dreaming of that very thing,” Brenda told Mary, softening her tone. “I suppose I came across very…sour, as Ralph would put it. I’ve been under a great deal of stress.” Brenda looked down at her dress. “The truth is, I haven’t been sleeping very well, either. I was upstairs in my bedroom when you arrived, reading a book. I decided to come downstairs for a cup of coffee and that’s when I heard voices coming from the living room.”

  Mary offered Brenda a friendly smile. “I’ll pour us some coffee,” she said and calmly went to work.

  Brenda went back to slicing the bread. “Mother is very close to the grave,” she said again in a sad voice. “I suppose I should have told you that earlier. The truth of the matter is, her fall was very severe.”

  “How did Aunt Gennifer fall, Cousin Brenda?” Betty asked.

  Brenda turned and focused on Betty’s exhausted but very innocent face. “Ralph found her at the bottom of the main staircase,” she explained. “Mother was unconscious when I arrived at the stairs and I thought…Mother was dead.”

  “Did Ralph ever say how your mother fell down the stairs?” Mary asked, picking up an old western style pot of coffee. She poured some of the coffee into a brown cup and waited for Brenda to answer.

  “No,” Brenda said and returned back to the bread. “I suspect he was afraid I thought he pushed Mother down the stairs.”
/>   “Why?” Mary asked.

  Brenda stood silent. She didn’t speak for a few minutes, which gave Mary time to finish pouring the coffee and carry the cups over to the kitchen table. When Brenda finally did speak, her voice spilled out in furious anger. “Ralph once showed me kindness. When he married Mother, he was very kind to me…and then he changed and became…cruel.” Brenda’s face became strained with worry and fear. “When mother had her fall…he suddenly became very friendly toward me again…at least for a few weeks. After he decided that I didn’t suspect him of pushing Mother down the stairs, his hateful attitude toward me returned.”

  Mary handed Betty a cup of coffee. “Do you think Ralph pushed your mother down the stairs?” she dared to ask.

  Betty took her cup of coffee and looked at Brenda with sad eyes. “You do, don’t you, Cousin Brenda? You think that awful man pushed Aunt Gennifer down the stairs.”

  Brenda walked her eyes over to Betty and silently nodded. “The marriage was a horrible prank in itself, so to speak,” she whispered and then cleared her throat.

  “What do you mean?” Mary asked.

  Brenda put down the kitchen knife and turned to face Mary. “Mother never loved Ralph,” she explained. “Mother was in love with Ralph’s brother.”

  “Brother?” Mary asked.

  Brenda nodded. “Matthew McCane,” she said and slowly glanced toward the kitchen’s entrance. “Matthew McCane is Ralph’s twin brother.”

  “Twin…brother?” Mary asked, feeling her blood turn cold. She took a quick sip of warm coffee, but the coffee didn’t help warm her insides up. “Ralph has a twin brother?”

  “Had a twin brother,” Brenda explained, keeping her eyes on the kitchen entrance. “I’ve said enough,” she said in a quick voice and focused on the block of cheese. “I’ll cut some cheese for the bread.”

  Mary glanced at Betty, who shrugged her shoulders. “Brenda?” Mary said, feeling a current of new questions flooding into her mind, “did your mother ever marry Matthew?”