I will not continue to be bound to his demands forever. I am sending you our wedding papers so you can allay your parents’ doubts. Please come to me now. I need you.
Your loving husband,
Benjamin
Benjamin McCann rubbed the back of his great neck with his immense weathered hand, sighed, then scratched the cat behind its ears. “Something is wrong, my little furry friend. I cannot quell the feeling. I will never see my unborn child or my beautiful wife in this house. And if that be true, what is life at all to me?"
The cat yawned, purred louder, then stretched. A weary McCann rose from his desk, paced the room. He took out a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded and read it. “These words, Timothy, they have the sound of goodbye. What could have happened? She loves me, I know it. Then why would she be telling me goodbye? And if she be telling me goodbye, why did she tell me about the baby? What in God's name am I supposed to do?"
He refolded the paper, pushed it deep into his pocket. Tears fell down his leathery cheeks as he sobbed uncontrollably. “Why? Why in the name of all that is right would she write me this? Has she stopped loving me? She seemed to care right enough when she was in my arms, not a season ago. What has that demon Spencer done? This has to be his work, but how? What could he say or do to turn her against me? Well, I tell you one thing; I will see him burn in hell before I let him get by with this! I will find out what he did if it be the last thing I ever do, and I will repay this wrong."
Benjamin McCann stormed out of the room. Timothy the cat looked up at Liz a moment, then vanished. The room shifted again and Liz found herself once more in the library with which she was familiar. “Whew!” she said to herself, “seems McCann was not as he was represented at all."
"What?” A voice to the side of the room asked.
Liz jumped as the door swung open. “Kim! What are you doing here?"
Kim stared at Liz a moment. “Hello! I live here, you know."
"Well, yeah, I—that is, why are you wandering around at this hour of the morning?"
"Liz, are you feeling all right? It is six-forty-five; I'm always up and wandering around by this hour. You, however, are not. I heard voices and came to see who was here."
"You heard voices? Six—forty-five? Is that what time it is? But it was four-fifteen just moments ago."
Kim frowned at Liz, looked at her watch again. “Yes, I did hear voices, a man's voice and yours. And yes, it is six-forty-five! You're alone?"
Liz opened her mouth to reply, cocked her head to the side then shook it. “Benjamin McCann and Timothy were here, just moments ago—and it was seventeen ninety-two—October first."
Kim smiled and said, “I know you're going to have some kind of satisfactory explanation for the sentence you just ran by me. What do you say we go out to the kitchen and whip up some breakfast and you can tell me all about it?"
Liz smiled, shrugged. “There is an explanation to all this, you know."
"Yes, I'm sure there is; that is what I want to hear—it must be a doozie. Come on—I'm starved.” Kim led Liz out of the library and down the hall.
* * * *
Liz had gone up to get her journal from beside her bed while Kim made waffles. Now she watched as Kim finished reading her entry. After Kim closed the book, Liz continued to wait. Kim studied her face, but said nothing.
"Well?” Liz prodded at last. She finished eating her Belgian waffle, filled with pecans and covered with real butter and light syrup.
"Well, that is something, Liz,” Kim offered, beginning to eat, now that she had finished reading. The waffles were stacked in a warmer in the center of the table.
"So, do you think I'm going nuts or what?” Liz queried.
Kim smiled at her, “Liz, you know better than that. My question is, do you think this information is valid?"
Liz sighed, “I—don't know, Kim—I was hoping you might have some feeling about it. Am I imagining things, or is this to be believed?"
"It has the ring of truth to it, but it still doesn't explain Ben McCann. And who is Timothy, anyway? That's what I want to hear about.” She cut her waffle with her fork and chewed the bite, waiting.
Liz relaxed a bit. “Oh, I thought you thought I was nuts about Missy and it is McCann that worries you?” She sipped her hot and spicy chai tea.
"So?” Kim lifted her eyebrows and watched her friend.
"After the dream with Missy, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about the hidden passages and I thought if I went to the library, I might be able to corroborate that much of the story, at least.” She said as she thought through what she had done.
Kim nodded, “That much makes sense."
Liz wrinkled her nose at Kim's sarcasm. “Well, thanks,” she said.
"So?” Kim continued to encourage the conversation to move forward.
"I was there a few minutes when I decided where I thought the passage might be. I was going over to examine the bookcase when there was an abrupt shift in energy.” She stopped and looked puzzled, then continued, “I can't describe it, but I knew something was different. I turned around and there he was, sitting at that huge old desk, writing a letter to his sweetheart, Constance."
"Constance?” Kim echoed.
"I know, but it is the kind of name a woman in seventeen-ninety-two might have had, you know.” Liz went on with her description, “And the whole room was different somehow. There were lanterns instead of electric lights, of course, and the bookshelves were different; the room wasn't completed back then, you know? There was a fireplace on one of those walls where the bookcases are now."
"Okay, I get the picture,” Kim said. “What about this Timothy?"
"The cat, Kim!” she said with exasperation, then added, “He must be the ghost cat—a big, fluffy gray cat. Timothy was lying on the desk, right by Ben's elbow. McCann was upset; he had received a letter from Constance and something she said made him think she wasn't coming to join him. Kim, she was pregnant."
Kim looked up from her last bite, “What?"
"Yes. It seems, he had made a trip to see her at the end of summer and they had gotten married in secret; they had consummated their vows and pow, she got pregnant.” She stopped speaking, thought a moment, then continued, “McCann thought his partner had somehow done or said something to make Constance decide she wasn't going to join McCann."
Kim smiled, “you got all that by seeing him in the library?"
"Well, yes,” she said, “and I read the letter over his shoulder as he finished writing it. He told her he was planning to buy Spencer out and then he wouldn't have to keep on doing what Spencer wanted all the time. McCann's thoughts were that Spencer was the crook, not him. He called the man a demon to Timothy."
"Well, what is it they say—every man thinks he is right in his own eyes?” Kim looked at her, her dark blue eyes questioning.
Liz sighed. “Kim, I'm convinced Spencer was the crook, not McCann, and for whatever reason, he went along with Spencer until he could prove his partner was indeed the bad guy. This thing I saw with McCann and the cat—it was in seventeen-ninety-two—before the house was even finished. McCann didn't go missing until ten years later. He stuck it out, alone and without his love and his child, knowing they were never coming to him, until he could confront Spencer with all his evil deeds."
Kim cleared away the dishes, shook her head, “Where did you get all the information? Did he tell the cat?"
"He told the cat he was going to find out what Spencer had done to change Constance's mind if it was the last thing he ever did, and that he was going to get even with him."
"And the rest?” Kim poured herself another cup of coffee and sat down on a stool.
"The rest is based on what John said about when McCann went missing,” she said.
Kim rolled her eyes. “And John knows so much about everything?"
"Well, maybe not, but he has at least tried to find out. Suppose, as John has said, Spencer is well thought-of in the area—has lots of money,
maybe owns lots of property—a regular guy. Maybe McCann has a questionable past. Maybe he gets caught in the act of doing something suspicious. Spencer goes and helps him get out of trouble, thinking perhaps he can use him for dubious actions of his own. The guy has done dishonest things before. He shouldn't mind getting his hands dirty, if the price is right."
"So he brings McCann out here and sets him up to smuggle for him? Spencer has the solid reputation and just to make sure McCann doesn't become a respectable citizen himself, Spencer starts leaking little dirty ditties about his partner all over the place. Some of it even gets back to Constance and her family?” Kim improvised.
"Yeah, something like that, Kim. But McCann knows his slick partner is not so clean himself. Spencer is probably blackmailing McCann to keep him working for his business, and McCann just lets on like he is going for it, until he has enough evidence to prove his case against Spencer."
"Ten years?” Kim asked, stressing the obvious.
"Maybe it took that long. Anyway, McCann finally gets all the pieces put together and is all set to spring the trap on Spencer..."
"But Spencer, being the dirty dog he is, has suspected McCann would try something all along and..."
Liz nodded. “Spencer double crosses McCann and kills him, hides his body someplace where he is sure it will never be found. After a while, he claims McCann's property, saying McCann took off with a lot of money that didn't belong to him and he will take the property for what McCann stole from him."
Kim smiled, “You think there was ever any gold involved?"
Liz shrugged. “I don't know. Sure makes a hell of a story, though, doesn't it?"
Kim laughed aloud then. “John may be right—you should write it all out and sell it!"
"Don't make light of this, Kim. If even half of this is true, it is some heavy stuff, for sure."
"I know. It's just hard to believe people are like that, though. I mean, suppose there had been a fortune in gold? Where would McCann have hidden it so no one could have found it all these years?"
"Who says no one ever found it? Maybe the Indians hauled it off and put it in a cave somewhere."
Kim pursed her lips, “Not likely, given that they already thought the place was full of evil spirits before there were murders here."
Liz laughed. “Good point, Sherlock. So, you want to accompany me to the library and see if we can locate this hidden passage? You can explore books while I scrutinize the bookshelves."
Kim shook her head, “No, I have to be in Austin all afternoon to help make plans for the Haunted House thing. Are you sure you won't change your mind and go with me? I'm not sure I feel good about leaving you alone with all the revelations you're having here."
Liz shrugged her shoulders, “Don't be silly. Spooky and Ghost will be here with me. Besides, I need some time to ponder all this information that is flooding in. What could happen?"
"Heaven only knows, Liz. You might get lost in a secret passage and we might never see you again."
"You know better than that; I'm not that easy to get rid of!"
Kim laughed, “Seriously, though, what are your plans?"
Liz stretched and walked to the end of the kitchen. “I could use a few hours of shut-eye. Then I thought I might explore the house a bit more for the ideal place to set up my beadwork studio—you know—unpack some beads; maybe start a project—or at least plan one out."
"That sounds sensible."
"Yeah, I'm the sensible type, you know. And McCann must have kept some kind of journal himself. Maybe I will poke around some and see if I can find it."
"Oh, good idea, Liz! That will be a nice, safe thing to do while I'm gone."
Liz shook her head, hands on hips, “There you go being sarcastic again. Of course it will be safe—I'm on McCann's side."
"Right. Well, I have some computer work to do before I take off for town, so I'll be in my room if you need me."
"Okay. Aren't you meeting Wade for lunch today?"
Kim stiffened and looked at the ceiling. “Yes, I am. He's leaving to go back to California tomorrow and I promised I would have lunch with him. And thank you so much for reminding me."
Liz stifled a chuckle, left the kitchen. “Right! See you later, cutie."
Chapter 7
Liz waved from the end of the walkway as Kim drove away. Liz forgot all about the nap she had mentioned earlier, abandoning the thought for the giddy sensation of anticipation that fluttered in her stomach as she walked toward the house. The beads would wait a while longer. Right now she was interested in finding tome of those secret passages. All her life she had dreamed of being in a house filled with mysterious noises, ghosts and secret passages. She never believed she would get the chance to visit one, much less be given the privilege of living there.
Kim would be gone until late evening at best, Liz knew. Lunch with Wade would take a couple of hours and then she was meeting with the Austin Parapsychology Group to help them make plans for the Halloween Haunted House. The event was the biggest fund raiser of the year for the APG and since it was mid-September, time was growing short for all the plans to be finalized. The problem was, the APG wasn't noted for agreeing on anything and trying to exchange ideas with their illustrious leaders was at best an ordeal, not to be approached with any dispatch. The discussions, arguments and rehashes would take most of the afternoon and evening and Kim would return home exhausted and combative herself. She wasn't sure why Kim continued to associate herself with the APG, but that was Kim's business.
The animals had come outside with her and the cat was rubbing against her legs, purring. Liz picked up Spooky and leaned down to scratch Ghost behind the ear, then carried the cat with her to look out over the cliff. What a view. The shrubs and trees between the house and the cliff were overgrown, but not unkempt. Native liveoak trees combined with boxwoods, red-tip photinias and holly bushes. Wild ducks floated along the river below, dipping down into the water to search for their meals among the water plants.
"Are you two ready to go back in, or do you want to stay out here and play a while?” The frisky cat wriggled out of her arms and went to scratch at the base of a huge pine tree. Ghost looked up at her with expectation. “Oh, I see. Mr. Independence wants to stay out, but you are lured by the food bowl to return to the kitchen? Come on, then."
The white Peke followed Liz as she took a few steps toward the house and then he bumped into her heel when she stopped without warning to stare at the house. She stopped and picked up the little dog. “Look at this, Ghost,” she said. She had found explaining a thing which confused her to a pet or a small child sometimes helped her sort it out. It made her go back to the basics.
"See those windows on the second floor? That is my bedroom. And see those windows in the center of the house on both floors? That is the library.” She was puzzled. “So, what is behind that big expanse of windowless wall below my bedroom?” The two corners of her bedroom were well defined. Her windows were beside the library windows, then along the western side, there were no windows, just the huge closet. And beside the entryway to the house, there were no windows, just the wall where the room jutted from the main part of the building. The room on the first floor was apparent from the outside, if you thought about it, yet on the inside...?
She was certain she had never been in that room—where was the entrance? “My dear Watson, that room doesn't have a door—at least not one I have seen! Let's go see if we missed something before.” The Peke grunted as she put him down. He followed Liz to the door and skittered inside. Liz was just shutting the door when she heard a faint meow outside. She opened the door and there was Spooky, displaying his best dejected look. “Aw, there, there; it isn't that bad. I thought you wanted to stay out. I didn't realize you didn't want to be out alone. Come on, then."
The cat padded in and Liz shut the big door then locked it. She felt strange locking the house up so tight out here in the country, but she had promised John and Kim both she would lock herself in
when she was alone. “A lot of good it does to lock the door if the ghosts in here are after me,” she said to herself as she walked down the hall. What she had noticed from the outside of the house—a rather large room at this end of the hall—was gnawing its way into her mind. Why hadn't she ever noticed the door into it?
Had she just missed the door, or was there no visible entrance into the room? She peered into the closet to the right of the entrance, then moved on down the hall, opened the second door on the right side of the hall and went into the back hall, turning on the light as she went. Sure enough, she found the staircase at the end of the hall leading up to the master bedroom suite as she remembered, but there were no doors on either side of the back hall. Did that mean there was a secret door which led to that room? Or had the Tatums sealed off that room when they refurbished the house? Why would they have done a thing like that?
She examined the wall, found nothing out of the ordinary. If there were a secret door, it must be there somewhere. The idea also occurred to her directly across the hall would be where the entrance to the secret passage to the library had to be. She studied that wall, found it to be devoid of any clues as well. She scrutinized the ceiling, which was low and felt too close to her as she looked for some hint of an apparatus that would open the door she was certain existed. Nothing.
She began to move down the wall, pushing here and there. It all seemed solid to her. Next, she examined the artifacts on the wall, all of which looked to be ancient and none of which could be budged. But as she examined them, she noticed something which looked like a button on one of the shields mounted there. Her heart jumped; she held her breath as she reached to touch the button. She pushed; it gave and a section of the seemingly solid wall slid without the least hint of noise out of the way to reveal an odd-shaped room beyond. She started in, but stopped. This room was a secret and wouldn't have been wired for electricity. If the door slid back into place once she stepped inside, it would be too dark to see how to find her way out. Kim's remark about her getting lost in a secret passage wasn't an appealing thought to her.
McCann's Manor Page 7
