Liz thought a moment. She could tell he was very upset at the thought of the boot prints; in fact, being in this house had a palpable effect on him and she didn't want to further disturb him by suggesting the boot prints were nothing to be upset about. “Is that the only visible manifestation you have seen?"
"There's a cat sometimes, but the cat doesn't bother me. The boot prints, though ... whoever he was, he bothers me a lot. He isn't any kind of a nice little ghost, you know? He is menacing."
"How often did you notice the prints?” Kim asked.
"At first, it didn't happen often. I think once in the first ten days I was here; then it was more often. Before I gave up and left, they would be there every time I went down the hall, even if I had just cleaned them up thirty minutes before. I know, it makes me sound like a coward or a lunatic, but I got to the point I just couldn't stand to go near the hall.” He shivered more noticeably this time, rubbed his hands together, stood and paced the floor.
"No, I understand your feelings. It is obvious the spirit was trying to communicate something to you, and it may well have been trying to scare you,” Liz said.
He laughed. “Well, it succeeded. In fact, now, having you two here and being able to reconsider it, I think it was a bad idea bringing you here. I don't want you to get hurt, not even to save Betty's house and ease her mind. Let's get out of here; I'm sorry I asked you to come,” he said, clipping the words.
Kim shrugged her shoulders, looked around. “Not so fast, John. I would like to look around a little more before I make up my mind. Would that be okay with you?"
John sighed, threw his hands up in the air. “Everyone always wants to stick around and look at everything; it never does any good. I have to get out of here. I'll wait for you at the car if you want to look around. Take your time, but if you get into trouble in here, I don't think you can count on me to help you out.” Having said that, he sped from the room, down the hall and through the front door, which was still open.
Kim and Liz looked at one another, shrugged. “Wow,” Kim said, “he seems honestly scared."
Liz nodded, looked around the room. “Yes, he does. Too bad; I like the house, myself. Gee, can you imagine us, owning a place like this?” she asked.
Kim chuckled. “Imagine it, yes; believe it, no."
"I know! Did you get a gander at that library? There must be ten thousand books in there."
"Yes, it's enormous. I couldn't believe you just skimmed over it to come all the way down the hall. What were you thinking?” Kim asked.
Liz smiled. “I wondered if you would follow me or stop—and you did follow, surprisingly enough,” she said.
Kim sighed, “Oh, really? I didn't realize it was a test. Did I pass or fail?"
Liz laughed, answered, “It wasn't that kind of test; just curious is all. I know how you love books. Let's go look, but remember, we mustn't leave John outside too long. He's liable to take off without us."
The two women made their way back down the hall to the library. Inside, they found a vaulted ceiling that spanned the full height of the three stories of the house. A number of the ornate bookshelves were empty of books. Good, Liz thought, plenty of room for our own books here.
She noticed several titles that caught her eye, books she was sure must be first edition prints, when a large portrait of a young woman hanging on the wall beside the entrance into the room drew her attention. It was a modern picture, painted in the fifties or sixties from the looks of it, and mounted in an elaborate golden frame hanging to the left of the door. The hairstyle and clothing were clearly too current to be Betty in her youth, although the girl bore a striking resemblance to Betty when she had been a young starlet; then it dawned on Liz. This is a portrait of Missy, Betty's daughter. She gasped as she looked at the brown haired, blue-eyed woman that stared back so lifelike at her. “Missy!"
"What?” Kim glanced up from a section of the books that had drawn her attention. She walked over to where Liz stood spellbound. “Liz, you look like you have seen a ghost."
Liz nodded without taking her eyes from the portrait, said, “I have, Kim ... Oh, I have!"
"What are you talking about?"
Liz swallowed hard and turned to her friend. “You remember the dream about the young woman who was thrown out of the window to her death by some unseen assailant?"
"Yes?"
"Kim, this is the girl! This portrait must have been made shortly before..."
"Are you sure? I mean, how do you know what she looked like? Couldn't the girl in the dream just have looked something like this?"
Liz was shaking herself as though trying to wake from a dream even now. “In the dream, I was Missy, Kim. When I saw this portrait just now, it was like I had an entire flashback of her life ... and her death. Kim, she must have known we would be coming here. She wants us to know something. John said she committed suicide in a mental institution; they all think she killed herself. She wants us to set the record straight for her."
"Oooh,” Kim whispered, “I got a chill when you said that! This is pretty creepy!"
Liz returned to staring at the portrait, as though in a trance. After a few moments she spoke again. “There is something else ... the reason she was killed ... she wants us to know that and to bring it to light."
"Well, what is it?"
Liz reached out and touched the portrait, traced the carvings of the frame, lost in thought. “I'm not sure. I think it has something to do with her father's death, but I'm not clear on anything yet. I do know this is not the only mysterious thing to happen here. This old place houses a passel of mysteries and ghosts. We will have our hands full with this one!"
Kim arched her eyebrow at Liz. “You have made up your mind about staying haven't you?"
Liz tore herself from the portrait, smiled at Kim, drew a deep breath, “I want to do it. How about you?"
Kim returned her smile. “Stop holding your breath; of course I do! I don't think I could walk away from it now."
"Oh, good,” sighed Liz. “I was hoping you'd feel that way."
"Are you kidding? How crazy do you think I am? Would I walk away from all these books? There are some real gems here; did you see all these books on the occult?"
Liz chuckled, crossed the floor toward the section of shelves Kim had indicated. “Wow, these are old. You don't find books like this anymore!"
"I know. In fact, I have never seen anything like some of these, but I have heard some of the titles mentioned in other writings as ‘rare and impossible to find now.’ This is incredible!"
"Yes, it is. It is almost like someone sat down and asked themselves what we would want to get us here and then they put it all here for us to find, an offer we couldn't refuse, so to speak,” Liz said.
"That is way too weird! I'd rather think we were just destined to come here. And speaking of weird, what is your take on the recurring muddy boot prints in the hall?"
"So far I'm trying to reserve my opinion on that, but I'm sure we'll find out all about them soon enough. What do you think?"
"Yeah, I imagine you are right on that one. As for the specter cat, Spooky and Ghost are bound to enjoy that! Let's go tell John; I can hardly wait to move in!” Kim said.
Chapter 4
John had been driving in silence for quite a while, shaking his head every few minutes as Kim and Liz talked over their upcoming move. At last he spoke to them, saying, “I can't believe the two of you are so excited about moving into that place. Didn't it make you feel creepy just to be there?"
Liz smiled at him and said, “I think I felt a lot like Betty Tatum must have felt the first time she saw it. The place has a lot of old wounds and many secrets, but so do I. I'm looking forward to delving into the mysteries it hides."
"Yeah, I guess I felt that way, too, in the beginning, but after I was there a while, for-get-it! You two are a couple of brave ladies,” he said.
Kim shook her head, “I have a question, John."
"Yes?"
/> "How much of what is in the house goes with it? I mean, if we were to fulfill the terms of the contract and it became ours, what would stay there?"
"Why, all of it would be yours. Why do you think so many people have tried to stay there? There is a small fortune in antiques, rare books and artifacts in that house and Betty has stipulated it will all go to whomever can heal the place. Even if there isn't any gold, you would still come out of the deal quite wealthy, should you fulfill the terms of the contract."
Liz pondered his words a while before speaking, “You know, John, this place is too good to be true."
John frowned. “Yes, you say that now, but it is also too bad to be true. You'll learn that for yourselves soon enough. Other people have died in that place, you know, besides Leonard Tatum. Several people have lost their minds. No one who goes inside is ever the same again, even if they do manage to leave with their sanity and their lives intact."
"You make it sound like Amityville or something, John. Why were you so anxious for us to see it, when now you're trying to talk us out of it?” Liz questioned.
John drew a deep breath and sighed. “I'm sorry. I get away from it for a while and I seem to forget how it affected me. When I return, it all comes crashing back down on me again. I don't know why that is, but it happens every time. If it makes you feel better don't listen to me, but do you realize how hard it is for a man like me to admit I am scared shitless by a house?"
Kim stifled a laugh. “Everyone has something that scares them shitless, John, and it doesn't take a haunted house for a lot of us!"
"That's true!” Liz chimed in, “Some people can't stand to see a black cat; others are afraid of snakes, or the dark, or there's my own personal favorite, spiders!"
John shook his head. “You're afraid of spiders, but not ghosts?"
Liz chuckled. “Well, yes. Maybe I should say rather that I'm not unafraid of ghosts, but Kim and I have been able to work out mutually agreeable arrangements with all the ones we have come into contact with ... so far. Of course, unlike spiders, spooks fascinate me. I can't resist them."
"Hmm ... figures. Sounds like something a dizzy dame would say,” John chided.
"Hey! Who's dizzy?"
John smiled then, and he seemed to relax a bit. “Hey, chill out, I was just kidding."
Liz smiled at him. She had always heard actors and actresses weren't as good-looking in person as they were on screen, but in John's instance, she couldn't disagree more. He must be at least twice as attractive in person as he was on the silver screen, and he looked younger, too. She scolded herself for the thoughts she was having about him. It wasn't exactly like her to have her head turned by a handsome face, but she was finding she liked John, and not altogether for his looks. She found him to be an interesting and genuine person, nothing like she had thought he would be.
"I know you were teasing me,” she chuckled. “I was teasing back!"
John smiled, “Good. I wouldn't want to alienate you. I'm going to be your closest neighbor, you know."
"Really? Neighbor?” Kim interrupted the two smiling faces in the front seat. She wasn't sure what was taking place between John and Liz, but she didn't think she liked it all that much.
"Yes, my house is the closest to McCann's, which is one reason it is so easy for me to see to the place. See, Tatum bought something like fifteen hundred acres with the old McCann place and in the fifties, he subdivided some of it and sold off the parcels to some of Hollywood's elite, called the community Actor's Guild. Of course, most of the places have changed hands several times by now, but it is still owned exclusively by actors, directors and other celebrities. You two will be the only ones out there who aren't in the entertainment business."
"Gee,” Liz mused, “a community of celebrities, kind of like a little Hollywood."
"Yes, but without all the glitz and glamor. It is a well-guarded secret, of course, and most of the stars are there part time, though several do live there full time, like myself. You will have about twenty to thirty famous neighbors to rub elbows with at any given time, if you want to get to know them.” He chuckled then, “Of course, not all of them are as sociable as I am. Some are retired and crotchety old has-beens, still too sold on themselves to spend much time getting to know anyone else."
"Well this sounds more interesting and more forbidding all the time!” Liz observed.
John pursed his lips. “You have no idea, my dear! And, of course, should the two of you succeed in ridding the mansion of its evil spirits, you will never lack for jet-setter friends who want to flaunt you and have you do some magical psychic thing for them, too. You will be invited to all the obscene parties and outlandish events you can stomach, and then some."
"Oh, dear,” Liz said, “maybe we should think more about it before we decide. What do you think, Kim?"
Kim knew Liz was being facetious. “Oh, I think we will be able to live with it, Liz, don't worry. I'm sure John and Wade will be able to help us ward off the curiosity seekers!"
Liz turned to look over her shoulder at Kim in the back seat. “Well, okay, if you're sure. I wouldn't want to get in over my head with a bunch of jet-setters!"
Kim cocked an eyebrow at her friend, “Of course not! I know how you are."
Liz smiled at Kim and winked. She was feeling quite good about this whole thing, she had to admit. Then she thought again about Missy, about the chilling nightmare she still could recall as though she had awakened from it just moments ago. Missy had not killed herself, Liz was convinced of that much. “John,” she began, “When did Missy die?"
"Missy? Well, let's see ... Leonard shot himself in the library in August of sixty-eight. Missy—Melissa Angelica, her name was—never could accept her father's death. She insisted Leonard would never have killed himself and left her. She claimed to have been visited by his ghost, a ghost who told her there was a monster who had killed him."
"A monster? What kind of monster?” Images flashed in her mind, sent it reeling, but they were too illusive. She couldn't focus in on them fast enough. What was it she could almost see but couldn't quite grasp? Was it a man who for some reason Missy thought of as a monster? The only image she could latch onto at all was that of a dark hooded figure, but it was impossible to tell if the figure inside the cloak was human.
"I don't know. No one knew much about Missy's monsters, I think. She saw monsters all the time, though; her mind was—unstable. She called this one Ptarmigan, but he was just like all the others, a figment of her imagination. Betty and her doctor, Hiram Winter, decided the house was a bad influence on Missy. They tried sending her to stay at her grandparents’ farm in Iowa, but she continued to rave about the monsters. So in December of seventy, they sent her to a private institution in New York. She jumped out a window the following April."
Liz looked at Kim, who stared back at her in disbelief. Winter was the name Missy had used when she thought of the man who had ordered her death. There had been a farm in Iowa. Should she tell John about the dream? Kim shook her head, as if in answer to Liz's unspoken question. Not yet. Liz would wait and see what she could turn up on her own, for a while, but then she wanted to talk to Betty, and to learn more about this Hiram Winter. What had been going on that brought about the deaths of Leonard and Missy Tatum? Who was Hiram Winter?
"Where is this Dr. Winter now?” Liz asked.
"Winter? Why do you ask?"
"I would like to talk to him about Missy,” she said.
"He was older than Betty, died a few years ago, I think,” John said.
"Oh. I don't suppose he spent time in New York while Missy was there, did he?"
"No, not as far as I know, but his brother Lucas was at the institute. As a matter of fact, he was the head of the facility. That was the reason they decided to send Missy there; he was supposedly the best in his field. May I ask why all this interest in Melissa?"
Liz paused. What to say without telling him the entire story? “I had a dream about her. She thought about
a man named Dr. Winter and the farm in Iowa. This was before I met you or ever heard of McCann's mansion. When I saw her portrait in the library, it piqued my curiosity about Missy,” Liz said.
John frowned and asked, “You dreamed about Missy? You are psychic, aren't you? What do you think it means?"
"Well, I'm not sure yet. Guess that is why I'm curious,” she skirted the issue.
"I guess! Does this sort of thing happen to you often?” John looked at her with genuine curiosity.
"No, but it does happen sometimes. Kim and I both have these kinds of dreams from time to time. It usually means something significant, to be sure.” Liz chewed on her lower lip in thought.
John pulled in behind Kim's white Jaguar in front of the restaurant where they had met for lunch. “Sounds like it might be significant,” he mused. “Okay, well, I will see you Saturday morning and we will get this thing started, right?"
"I can hardly wait!” Liz smiled at John. “Thanks for the lunch, the tour and the conversation. It was great."
"For me, too, girls. See you Saturday."
Liz and Kim got out of John's blue Mercedes SUV and waved before getting into the Jag and driving away. The day had yielded puzzling information and they needed time to ponder it.
* * * *
"So?” Kim asked at length.
Liz looked at Kim, puzzled, “So, what?"
"I saw you making eyes at John Carter. Are you interested in him or just leading him on?” She leaned back on the small sofa in their travel trailer and kicked off her shoes.
"Leading him on?” Liz protested, “I was not!"
"Yeah, uh-huh. I see that little grin on your face. You're smitten by him, admit it."
McCann's Manor Page 5
