O'Hare House Mysteries

by Kate Danley

  "I am afraid not," Clara said gently. "Minnie is not as tied to this earth as Mr. Willard and Mrs. Nan. Even I, who can see Mr. Willard and Mrs. Nan no matter what the circumstances, have a difficult time seeing Minnie."

  Wesley's disappointment was clear. Mr. Willard said bracingly, "She cared a great deal for you, sir. Every day of her waking life, she would talk about her young brother and of how all this was for him. She was a devoted sister and you must never forget."

  Wesley nodded, trying to force cheerfulness. "Well, just knowing she is here… or once was here… is a comfort."

  Mr. Willard gave another bow and walked out of the room. Wesley could not keep his eyes off of him. Mr. Willard gave another snap and disappeared before exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

  "Cheeky," said Clara with amusement.

  "With a fellow like that, I could have done quite well on the vaudeville circuit," laughed Wesley.

  "I shall let Mr. Willard know you are in need of an assistant if he should ever decide to pursue a career on the stage."

  "This really is extraordinary!" Wesley exclaimed again.

  "Yes, I know," Clara replied, so glad that Wesley was taking it all in stride and had not gone running from the house in terror. She sidled closer to him so that her leg pressed up against his. "Now, did you come merely to admire my staff?"

  Wesley smiled, taking both her hands in his. "Of course not. I came to admire you."

  "That is the sort of talk I enjoy better," Clara replied.

  "Sadly, I also came to show you this." He pulled out a newspaper from his pocket. "Did you see the paper?" he asked.

  She looked at the headline. It was a report of all the grisly murders which had taken place at the Oroberg house.

  "Oh dear," Clara said, looking at the artist's depictions of the scene and reading the reporter's take on events. All statements Wesley, Clara, and Marguerite made to the police had been carefully edited to not include Violet's transformation, but rather than downplay events, the reporter had used the holes in their stories to spin a tale of mystery and fear. "It is remarkable that we survived it at all."

  "We are quite fortunate," Wesley agreed, pouring himself another cup of tea.

  "Wesley?" Clara said, putting the paper down and turning to him, hating to bring the matter up.

  "Yes, my darling?"

  "I am afraid that I have some bad news…"

  "What is it?" he said, dropping sugar into his cup and then setting down the tongs to give Clara his full attention.

  "Well, it has to do with my household staff."

  "I thought we were not going to talk of them again," Wesley said as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Then he stopped. "They're not in the room with us, are they?"

  Clara laughed, "No, darling, we are alone. But truly, I must speak with you of a matter of great importance."

  "Very well," he replied, wrapping her hand in his and holding it to his heart. "Tell me everything."

  "You see, I believe Violet killed my house staff… and she may have killed your sister, too."

  Wesley’s grip went lax.

  She could not be offended by his reaction. He had already faced so much today with great acceptance, but she knew the matter could not wait. "I spoke with Mr. Willard and it seems that Horace and Violet's father brought an Egyptologist to the house the night before the murders. This scientist carried with him several artifacts, one which he gave to Violet's father, Peter Nero. Both Mrs. Nan and Mr. Willard remember seeing a woman before they died. And after the supernatural effects we saw on Violet, I fear that the danger might still be present."

  "Well," said Wesley, gathering his composure, "we must do something about that. Any ideas?"

  "I went to visit Marguerite in the hospital today," Clara informed him. "She and Norman have been tracking similar murders across Europe for the past fifteen years. Marguerite suggested we go to Horace and Violet's estate lawyer tomorrow and make inquiries about any strange objects."

  "Very well," said Wesley. He then held up his finger to silence any argument, "but for tonight, no more talk of ghosts or hauntings or terrible times. I have had quite enough for one day. We are off to dinner and then to the theatre, and we shall be just two normal people on an evening about town."

  Clara leaned forward and kissed Wesley on the cheek. "Sounds heavenly."

  4

  It had taken several days to get an appointment with Horace and Violet's estate lawyer, Mr. Hampstead, but he had finally been able to fit them in at the end of the week.

  His smartly dressed secretary wore a well-tailored suit. Clara reflected that this underling's garments probably cost twice as much as her normal dress, and she had to fight down a bubbling intimidation. After all, she thought, she had faced a demon-like creature and ghosts at every turn. And a secretary should make her feel fear?

  He did.

  The secretary ushered Clara and Wesley into the office and motioned that they should take a seat at the two chairs in front of Mr. Hampstead's impressive desk. The lawyer's office was a large room of dark mahogany and cherry wood. The success of his practice was on display in every nook and cranny. His walls were filled with elegantly bound law books and gas lamps lit the room even though the sun was in the sky.

  The door opened and Mr. Hampstead blew in. He waved his secretary away, and his man bowed slightly before closing the door.

  "Please, don't get up!" said Mr. Hampstead to Clara and Wesley. The lawyer had a circle of white hair around his bald head and small spectacles balanced upon his nose. His wide girth showed that most of his business dealings were made around the dinner table and at gentleman's clubs. He sat down in his chair, made doubly-wide to accommodate his hulking size. "Now, how may I be of assistance?"

  Clara nodded at Wesley to begin. He leaned forward, oozing the charm that all his years as a charlatan had taught him. "We learned that you were in charge of disposing of the Oroberg estate. We regretfully learned of Mr. Horace Oroberg and Miss Violet Nero's passing and were interested in purchasing a certain artifact we have long since admired from their manor collection."

  The mention of purchase caused Mr. Hampstead's eyes to light up. "Indeed, and what might this object be?"

  "A small artifact brought from Egypt—"

  Mr. Hampstead cut him off before he could continue. "It is already gone."

  Clara's eyes widened. "Oh dear…"

  Mistaking her distress for attachment to the object, not knowing of their concerns of the curse, Mr. Hampstead tried to comfort her. "My dear woman, I am afraid that it has been quite a busy few days. So many people laying claim! If it was in my power, I would have put it to auction and let you all squabble amongst yourselves."

  "Squabble?" said Clara.

  "Oh! The arguments and fights that have happened in this room. I have not seen such a display of dramatics in all my days!"

  "Who has laid claim to this item?" asked Wesley, trying to steer the conversation to a more amicable tone.

  "A Dr. Mallfeld arrived within hours of me being informed of Lord Oroberg's death, and in his hand he had the paperwork to claim ownership. I was glad to dispose of this item so quickly. But within hours, another man arrived, a Dr. Van Flemming! And in his hand HE had paperwork stating that the object belonged to HIM!" he said, vehemently. "I truly hope that you do not come here with papers, too. It is too much to be believed! It is a good thing Lord Oroberg put his trust in me to properly dispose of his objects. A man without such inclinations of the law might find himself in quite the legal pickle."

  "Rest assured, my good sir, we are merely buyers and are not here to created more headaches for you," said Wesley.

  "Good, good…" said Mr. Hampstead. "Well, then, I am afraid I can be of no further assistance. Are you sure you are not interested in the purchase of any of the other objects in the house?"

  "No," said Wesley, "I am afraid that was the only one."

  "Well, then, I shall bid you good day," said Mr.
Hampstead dismissively. Clara could see he was disappointed there was no hope of profit from his current guests.

  "Pray, could you tell us who finally took the object so that we might discuss acquiring it from them?" asked Clara.

  Mr. Hampstead replied, "Certainly, I passed it along to the first claimant, Dr. Mallfeld. He is an archeologist at the natural history museum in town. You should go speak with him there."

  Clara and Wesley rose, thanking Mr. Hampstead. He rang a bell and his secretary entered to escort them out.

  As they walked onto the busy street, Clara placed her hand in the crook of Wesley's elbow and extended her parasol to afford them some shade. "What a strange turn of events," she observed.

  Wesley placed his tall hat upon his head. "Indeed, two characters after this one object, and quite passionately at that. I wonder what should inspire such emotion of ownership…?" he mused.

  "And how did it come to be in Horace Oroberg's possession if two other men were also recorded as owners?"

  "Stranger and stranger still," said Wesley, hailing a cab.

  The driver pulled his carriage and horse over. They climbed aboard, settling into the black leather seats.

  "Driver!" said Wesley. "To the museum of natural history."

  The driver clicked his tongue and the horse took off at a brisk walk towards the center of town. The museum was still fairly new, home to some of the most exciting discoveries: artifacts from ancient cities, taxidermied animals from the deep wilds of Africa, even a dinosaur skeleton was on display.

  The museum was a brick building surrounded by grassy lawn. It had a marble relief of Greek gods and goddesses at the apex of the roofline. Families and couples slowly strolled their way up the stairs into the exhibit galleries.

  They alit and Wesley paid for the cab. As he handled the transaction, Clara thought how a trip to the museum should have been one of great excitement and joy. But there was a tension hanging over the day, shadows of what they had seen in Horace Oroberg's manor which lent urgency to their actions.

  Wesley gave her a tight-lipped smile, and Clara knew he was feeling the same as she. He offered his arm and steered Clara through the light crowds towards the impressive front doors.

  These massive creations of ornamental brass and wood opened up into an echoing chamber at least three stories high. The air was cool, and the shadowed darkness kept the heat at bay. The ceiling was a wonder of carved wood, inset with gilt. The walls were darkly paneled and the marble floor so highly polished it looked like a mirror. The sounds of the public talking in awed and hushed tones bounced softly throughout the space.

  Wesley stopped an official looking fellow and inquired, "We are here to speak with Dr. Mallfeld. Could you direct us to his offices?"

  The man apologized, "I am so sorry to say that he is presently engaged. He is preparing for this evening's lecture about his recent archeological trip to Egypt and the treasures uncovered by his expedition. It is open to the public and I invite you to attend."

  Clara's hand tightened on Wesley's arm. It was an invitation they could not afford to decline.

  5

  There was a buzz of hushed excitement among all of the guests to the lecture. The room was lit with gas light and the smartly dressed intellectuals mingled with the shabbier dressed professors and scientists. A four-piece ensemble played music for their entertainment. Strange and exotic artifacts were placed upon tables for the visitors to look at: jewelry and spears, knives and baskets. Several large photographs were propped up beside the objects, showing where they had been found.

  Rows of chairs were set up at the far end of the room, facing a screen and a Magic Lantern. Clara gripped Wesley's arm excitedly. "We shall see pictures of their dig!" she whispered, pointing at the projector and its stack of glass slides.

  The musicians stopped and a short man with slicked blonde hair strode over to the podium. He was built like a bulldog. There was a pompous air to him, as if it was he, and not necessarily his finds, that brought the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you will find your place, this evening's Cabinet of Curiosities shall commence," he barked.

  Hushed excitement spread across the crowd as everyone found their seat. The man stood up on his tiptoes to introduce himself. "I am George Mallfeld, lead archeologist on this exhibition!"

  The crowd broke out into applause.

  Clara and Wesley exchanged glances. So, this was the mysterious Dr. Mallfeld that the lawyer spoke of.

  "My first slide shall be of the tomb we originally found over fifteen years ago. It took well over a decade to find the entrance to the true treasures of this site. If I could have the lights dimmed, please," he commanded. Several men raced around the room, lowering the gas lamps so that their flames would not interfere with the Magic Lantern's slides. Dr. Mallfeld dropped in the first picture.

  Clara felt herself almost unable to breathe. A great, crushing weight of fear pressed itself against her bosom. It was a square shaped room with four doors, just like the one they found in Horace Oroberg's basement.

  "You may ask yourself why it was so difficult to find the entrance to this tomb?" said Dr. Mallfeld. "Time had filled the hallways completely with dirt. Hidden in these hallways were several rooms with treasures unlike any we, meaning myself and my faithful crew, had ever seen. Most archeologists would have stopped, thinking they had found the central cache. In fact, many of my partners tried to dissuade me from continuing the dig. But I would not be dissuaded, my friends! Instead, I discovered this strange maze which led to this tomb."

  He dropped in the next slide. Clara heard Wesley involuntarily gasp as Dr. Mallfeld switched out one slide after another. It was just like the one carved into the bedrock beneath the manor. Why had such a maze existed in ancient Egypt, only to crop up again, almost like a mirror image, in the middle of the countryside? Clara wondered. What force was at work here?

  "Inside of this tomb," Dr. Mallfeld continued, "was the most remarkable specimen. We found the mummy of a woman. Her sarcophagus was covered entirely in gold. Signs pointed to the fact that her tomb had been opened before, but for some reason, her burial objects all remained inside. In fact, it appeared that grave robbers may have even taken items away only to return them later. Perhaps grave robbers with a conscience?"

  The entire room broke out into polite titters.

  "Or grave robbers struck with some terrible curse," Clara muttered to Wesley.

  "These earlier visitors left messages warning us to stay away, but men of science do not let superstition keep us from the truth! And what truth we found! Even more remarkable than these ancient objects was the mummy herself. She was quite an anomaly. Usually, internal organs are removed and placed into canopic jars." He dropped another glass slide into the Magic Lantern and the crowd murmured at the beauty of the ancient urns. "But this woman's brain was left inside of her body and her heart removed. A discovery like no one else has seen!"

  At that moment, the lights were restored as if Dr. Mallfeld had control over the elements and the room was filled with applause. Clara politely turned to the stranger sitting beside her and commented, "Quite a remarkable discovery."

  He was a poorly dressed man with patches upon his elbows. His face was pointed and rather rat like. He harrumphed. "He's nothing but a humbug."

  "I beg your pardon?" she replied.

  "An absolute flim-flam man, willing to destroy an archeological find for his own glorification and interest."

  Clara and Wesley looked at one another, surprised by this man's vehemence. "Truly?" Clara asked, hoping that he would expound.

  "Indeed! I was on that very expedition and you should have seen the damage that man wrecked upon such an important site. Why, he stole the objects that were rightfully mine! Objects that should have been placed in a museum such as this, all for his own private interest and abuse. And here! Even this very night! Taking all the glory and credit for himself with no mention of his partners, including me or our investors! And then to take these obje
cts and sell them to line his coffers, no matter what the cost to science and investigation…"

  Wesley leaned forward. "Do you have such objects from this exhibition?

  Clara added enthusiastically, “We would be very interested in learning more and would love to hear your side of this tale."

  The man gave them his calling card proudly, "My name is Dr. Van Flemming." He cast his eyes up and down Dr. Mallfeld with loathing. "Please, come anytime and I will show you what a REAL Egyptologist looks like.”

  "How is your schedule tomorrow?" asked Wesley.

  6

  The post-lecture socializing showed no signs of waning. The crowd was enthusiastic, exclaiming as they looked at the objects Dr. Mallfeld had on display. Dr. Mallfeld himself was entertaining a circle of people with his stories of valor in the desert. The crowd laughed politely at his jests, hanging on every word. He cut quite the dashing figure. Clara and Wesley briskly strolled over to eavesdrop.

  When a lull in the conversation came, Wesley piped up, trying to keep the tenor of his questioning light. "You said that you found inscriptions from past grave robbers that there was rotten luck to any who took the tomb's objects. In fact, I hear that oft-times these tombs carry terrible curses. Have you experienced the curse of this tomb since your return?"

  Dr. George Mallfeld looked squarely at Clara and Wesley. Clara wondered if perhaps she detected a glimmer of fear in his eye. His confident façade was replaced as soon as the crack seemed to appear and he dismissed the question with an air of authority. "My good sir, I'm afraid those are nothing more than old wives’ tales, something told around the kitchen hearth to frighten young children on All Hallows’ Eve."

  The crowd tittered again.

  Clara stuck her courage and spoke, "Oh do entertain us with such a story!"

  Dr. Mallfeld shifted uncomfortably, and then breezily excused himself. "I would love nothing more, but I am afraid the evening grows short. I must excuse myself, for I am neglecting my other guests. Please, enjoy the champagne!"