Flamingo Realty Mystery Box Set

by CeeCee James

  Quickly, I pulled out my phone and dialed. As soon as she answered, I blurted, “Denise, come back. I need you. Listen, I’ll have you just do the kitchen. I’ll make him leave.”

  “Sorry, Ms. O’Neil. I’ve heard too many things about that place. I’m not coming back. Not with that guy staring at me, telling me that my skin looked soft. I left the bucket of cleaning supplies on the porch. You can drop them off at the headquarters when you’re finished. Or just keep them.”

  What things had she heard? I closed my eyes and said goodbye. Sighing, I slid my phone into my pocket.

  Well, I did say I wanted an adventure. I wasn’t giving up now. I rolled my sleeves, grabbed the handle of the bucket, and went back inside.

  The first room I tackled was the kitchen. As I glanced around, I shrugged off the expectation of getting it clean and went with a quick “it’s good enough” mop-down. I sprayed the counters and cupboard door fronts and wiped. Then I cleaned the sink and appliance fronts. The floor was going to have to wait.

  After that, I walked into the drawing room and did a similar dusting with a lemon wood cleaner. I fluffed the pillows and beat at the couch with a rag. It was actually not too bad when I was finished.

  It was the upstairs that was going to be the battle.

  I dragged the lemony cloth along the wood banister as I walked up the stairs. In reality, I knew I couldn’t do much. But I’d make sure there were no nasty surprises hidden in any of the rooms.

  The thought of nasty surprises distracted me and I missed a step, catching myself with the banister. It really was a grand staircase. I could imagine how it was back in the day. Music playing as guests walked in. A butler at the door to take the expensive jackets. The laughter as the chandelier cast shadows of women in fancy dresses and men in top hats.

  And then, I thought I could hear laughter, high and tinkling. And music playing… what in the world?

  I froze at the top of the stairs and checked behind me. Just as quickly as I heard it, the music faded away. I held my breath to listen, but it was gone.

  There had to be a reason. Maybe Charity. Yes! That was it! Didn’t Ms. Valentine tell her to go play the piano?

  Okay, there’s no more time for imaginative fancies. Let’s just get in and take a look.

  The hallway was equally grand with the walls hung with family portraits. I stopped at one, obviously the original Mr. and Mrs. Valentine. The man wore a full beard and smiled good-naturedly. His wife smiled too, a Mona Lisa one, like she was trying to hold back a laugh and be proper. Her little hand rested on top of his big one in a loving way.

  The next one showed the same couple, this time each with a little girl. One seemed younger than the other and sat on her father’s knee, while the older one stood next to her mother with her hands resting on the arm of a chair.

  I recognized Ms. Valentine in the face of the older child. Even at that age, her lips were pursed and eyes stared straight ahead. Charity’s head tipped to the side as she smiled.

  The third picture showed three children, this time a sullen boy next to his father. Boy, did Mr. Valentine appear proud. He stood behind the boy with his chest puffed out and his hand resting on his son’s shoulder.

  And that was it. That’s where the family pictures ended.

  The doors lined the hallway, appearing impressive with their wooden embellishments. One by one, I opened them and peeked inside. White-shrouded ghosts in the shape of beds and dressers filled the rooms. I didn’t clean much because there was nothing in the way that would stop a potential buyer from being able to walk through the room safely.

  At the end of the hall was a stairway that reminded me that Ms. Valentine said the third floor was for the servants. There was also an attic, but no one could possibly expect me to explore that, could they?

  I walked to the last bedroom door just before the stairs. There was a surprise waiting inside.

  It wasn’t a bedroom like the rest, but an old playroom. The walls were painted a light green color and two window seats were covered in inviting pillows. There was a rocking horse in the corner. Its wooden saddle had raw splotches from the peeling paint, but I could see it had once been bright red with gold trim.

  In the middle of the room was a table with a chessboard on it. I walked over to the game. The pieces were still laid out as though the children had just run outside in the middle of playing.

  There was a low bookshelf filled with children’s books. One book lay open on the floor. Over against the wall was another shelf, this one neatly filled with a few stuffed animals and a doll.

  Oddly, nothing was shrouded in sheets. A thick layer of dust covered everything instead.

  At the far end of the room was a door. It caught my eye because it was narrow and plain white, so different from the others. The handle was made of cut glass, like a prism.

  I walked over and gave it a turn. The knob was cool in my hand, but the door didn’t open.

  I twisted it harder and yanked with a grunt. It shifted as if it could open but was jammed for some reason. Okay, last chance. I yanked harder, half afraid I was about to break something.

  It opened with a rusty squeal. A swirl of dust and cold air entered the room.

  I peered in to see it was the entrance to a narrow staircase. Correction, a very narrow, steep staircase. I puzzled for a second before realizing it must lead up to the nanny’s quarters. I fished out my phone and set it to flashlight. There was no banister, so I reached for the wall for balance, its surface rough and unfinished, and headed up the stairs.

  The first step squeaked under my feet, making me wonder if this was such a good idea. How long had it been since someone had been up here? Perhaps not for seventy years, since the Valentines had been small children.

  I definitely didn’t want to fall through, but I was curious. Cautiously, I continued up. I caught a glimpse of light at the top, and after a few more steps, entered a sparsely furnished room. The light came from an oval window in the dormer. There was a nightstand that held a pitcher and a bowl, and hanging above it, a small rectangular mirror. I walked over and swiped its surface with my hand. A dusty version of myself stared back.

  This had to be the nanny’s room like I suspected. I turned to see her bed, just a tiny cot. It was lumpy and unmade, with a faded quilt thrown over in a heap that half hung on the floor. How odd, seeing how neat the rest of the room was.

  Something about the lump on the bed caught my attention. It looked eerily in the shape of a body.

  Outside, the gardener struggled to get the lawn mower to start, the engine turning over and over. Finally it caught with a cough. The familiar rumble gave me a sense of security, and I walked over to the bed with my shoulders back. Seriously, I was being silly. It was just an unmade bed. I could even see the top of the pillow.

  I reached out for the corner of the quilt and ripped it back.

  A smile stared up at me.

  Chapter 4

  I leaped back even as my brain scrambled for an explanation. The smile was decidedly toothy. Much too toothy.

  Okay, I got it. This was one of those fake skeletons like my science teacher used to have in class. Mr. Dennis often dressed him in bow ties and hats. This one had its hand resting across his chest with a loose watch on its wrist. The watch was unusual in that it was encrusted with fake diamonds. He looked to be made of the same yellow plastic as my old Fisher-Price toys. Apparently, Kari wasn’t joking about the skeletons in the house.

  Who on earth would put a fake skeleton under the covers? Was someone trying to prank me? Was it Richard? Kari had warned me he thought he was a funny guy, and he did know I would be going through the rooms today.

  I could feel my pulse start to hammer, and not in fear. Anger. This was not funny. I started to leave the room to give him a piece of my mind when something stopped me in my tracks.

  Hair.

  My brain finally computed that little detail. A few tufts, like brush bristles, clung to the skull.

 
; Oh, no, no, no. I backed away, my feet flapping together in a tangle. Down I went on my backside. I pedaled backward like a crab as a scream began to squeeze out. My jaw dropped, but instead of a scream, loud coughs came out instead.

  Dust from the floor clouded around me.

  I crawled for the stairs. The wood was slick, but I ran down them anyway. I slipped at the bottom and clawed at the door frame for balance.

  “Help!” I screamed. Dead eyes of the rocking horse stared at me. I scrambled for the door and flung it open.

  Ms. Valentine stood on the other side of the doorway blocking my escape. I gasped, halfway sucking in my hair. She didn't react to my emotion as her steely gaze contemplated me with her lips firmly pursed.

  “What are you doing in here?” she coldly asked.

  “I…I was looking for you.” My heart beat like a butterfly trying to escape a jar.

  “There’s no need for you to be in here. This is our playroom.” Her eyes stared like she was trying to bore holes into my skull.

  Something about the way she said playroom scared me almost as much as the thing I’d seen upstairs. I barreled out of the room.

  “You should leave now,” she said. “You don’t belong here.”

  Her words sent chills down my spine. My brain swam in surrealness. Was this another time? Was I some naughty drunken guest who snuck up into the playroom?

  I blinked hard and mentally shook myself. What am I thinking? Get a grip, Stella. “I’ve found something. It’s up the back stairs.”

  Ms. Valentine’s attention darted towards the rear of the room. Her gaze swept back and I felt I was about to be tossed out on my ear.

  “It’s a skeleton!” The words burst out of me almost in defense. Ms. Valentine raised an eyebrow as though I were incoherently babbling. I insisted. “It’s lying in the bed upstairs.”

  Ms. Valentine turned and stumped down the hall. “Come along.”

  I watched her, stunned at her lack of reaction, before following after her.

  “It’s not real,” Ms. Valentine said.

  “It—” I started.

  “It’s Richard’s prank,” Ms. Valentine said, leaning on her cane. I swear I heard her knuckles creak.

  A prank? I thought about the hair. “I don’t think this is a prank,” I said.

  I followed her down the staircase with my mind spinning. Charity met us at the bottom. She’d changed into another dress.

  “Time for pie?” she asked, hopefully.

  “No,” said Ms. Valentine firmly. “Have you practiced your piano?”

  “Yes, sister, I did my lessons.” Charity smiled proudly, oddly looking as though a child’s face peeked out through an old woman mask. “Will we be having the party soon?”

  I waited a moment to see if Ms. Valentine were going to tell her sister what I found. When she wasn’t forthcoming, I shared, trying to carefully word it.

  “We have a little problem,” I said.

  Ms. Valentine huffed.

  “A problem?” Charity parroted back to me. The way she tipped her head made her look even younger. I regretted bringing it up.

  “It’s Richard,” Ms. Valentine snapped. “Ms. O’Neil has stumbled onto one of his pranks.”

  “Oh! His pranks! Isn’t he so clever?” Charity’s feet tapped the floor, giving a glimpse of a pair of old Mary Janes.

  “I’m afraid this wasn’t a prank,” I said. “I need to call my boss to let him know there’s an issue.” I used boss, rather than uncle, hoping it sounded more authoritative.

  “What’s the matter? Tell me, sister, what’s the matter?” Charity pattered around Ms. Valentine like a little puppy.

  “You can’t possibly believe that,” Ms. Valentine sniffed disdainfully.

  “Where’s the problem?” Charity asked, her sausage curls bobbing as she turned.

  “Upstairs in the playroom.” Ms. Valentine answered.

  “Oh, momma said to stay out of there.”

  “Charity, dear, why don’t you go check on Richard.”

  Stomping her foot, Charity walked away, I grabbed my phone and dialed Uncle Chris.

  “Yellow,” my uncle said, in that way that normally drove me nuts but right now I hung on to like a life line. It was the only voice of sanity in this crazy house.

  “Hey, Uncle Chris, you know that house you wanted me to stage?”

  “The Valentines?”

  “Yeah, that one. Um, we have a problem.” I lowered my voice. “I found a skeleton. You need to send someone out right now.”

  “Get off that phone. I’m telling you, that’s preposterous,” Ms. Valentine stamped her cane on the floor in an impatient staccato.

  I tried to ignore her. She tapped me on the arm with the end of her cane.

  I have to admit, I saw red. I nearly jerked the cane away from her. Breathing harshly, I had to walk outside because I wasn’t sure what I was about to do.

  “Stella? You there? Are you sure you aren’t seeing things?” Uncle Chris asked.

  When I reached the porch, I nearly yelled, “She just poked me with her cane.” Oh, boy. I needed to calm down. “You have to get the police here. Because I’ve about had it.”

  There was silence for about two beats. Then, “Of course, if you’re sure…”

  I was out to my car by this time. “Uncle Chris, it had hair and missing teeth. It was grinning at me.” Prickles rose on the back of my neck, the kind that warned me I was being watched. Slowly I turned toward the house.

  Ms. Valentine stood in the doorway. But that wasn’t what freaked me out.

  It was Charity in the upstairs bedroom window. For the first time, the silly grin had dropped off her face. Her eyes were narrowed and calculating. When she saw I’d caught a glimpse of her, she tugged the curtain closed.

  Suddenly, I felt very alone.

  “Uncle Chris,” I whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you come too? Like right now?”

  “I’m on my way.” He hung up.

  I fumbled with the car door and climbed inside. After a second, I locked all the doors. I’m silly. I’m so silly, I told myself. But, I couldn’t shake the fear.

  From the doorway, Ms. Valentine glanced behind her like someone called her name. With a withering look in my direction, she slammed the door.

  Who had called her? Richard? Charity? I panicked as I pictured them going up to the room and clearing out the skeleton. Would they do that?

  They might.

  My hands started to sweat. Should I go back inside? Guard the skeleton?

  You have to stop. If they’re the type to get rid of the skeleton, then they might get rid of you.

  I called Uncle Chris again. “Have you called the police yet?” I blurted when he answered.

  “Yeah, and I’m still on hold with them. I’m about halfway to the Valentine house, myself.”

  “Really?” Relief rushed through me.

  “You better believe it. Your dad would skin me alive if anything happened to you. It might be the first family homicide.”

  “Don’t even joke about something like that at a time like this.” I shuddered. Seattle never looked so good.

  Chapter 5

  It was just a short time later that the manor’s driveway was filled with police cars and the coroner’s van. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds, leaving the light dark and gray, with the ancient trees looming over the house like grave keepers.

  I stood with Uncle Chris along with a group of officers in the Valentine’s foyer.

  “So you have no idea who that could be?” asked one officer.

  “Obviously some vagrant broke in,” Ms. Valentine said. Her lips creased into a thin smile. I was surprised her face didn’t crack.

  “A vagrant, huh?” said the cop, taking notes.

  “Yes. You know, we never go up to that floor. It’s been closed off for several years. We just haven’t had the money for the upkeep of this house. We’re on a limited income, at our age.”
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br />   “Plus, it’s freezing.” Charity giggled.

  “That’s what I meant, Charity. We can’t afford the heating bill for more than our personal living area.”

  The coroner came down the stairs. His two assistants rattled a stretcher as they followed him. On it was a black body bag, one that looked decidedly on the thin side.

  “Are you sure it’s even real?” Ms. Valentine asked, her eyebrows raised skeptically.

  “Ohh, is that it? Is that the skeleton?” Charity asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The coroner nodded to Charity, and then to her sister, he added, “And, yes ma’am. I am absolutely sure this is a real skeleton.”

  “So, I just want to double check who lives here,” said the officer. “It’s you, your sister, and your brother Richard.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “And that’s all. There’s no one else.”

  Ms. Valentine shook her head, but I noticed she tapped Charity on the foot.

  “And you don’t have any idea who that could be?” The officer pointed to the bag outside now being put in the coroner’s wagon.

  “No. I have no idea,” Ms. Valentine said.

  “Huh.” The second officer chewed the inside of his cheek. “So you think a vagrant came in and fell asleep in your bed and died. That’s your story?”

  “Not in my bed,” Ms. Valentine answered coldly.

  “Right. Right. I mean a bed in the house.” Despite his dubious tone, he leaned on his heels and smiled with a look of patience one often applies to listening to a preschooler telling a story.

  “Really, just look at us, at our age. What other explanation is there?” Ms. Valentine folded her hands over her cane and sighed. The dim light from the cloudy sky washed out her pale gray eyes, making her pupils appear like pinpoints.

  She also looked ageless. I don’t know how. It was common knowledge that the woman was in her eighties. But she appeared strong and healthy with her thin body clad in an old-fashioned dress.

  Ms. Valentine noticed me studying her and gave me a sardonic smile. Then she leaned heavily on her cane with a painful groan. Her face creased into its usual roadmap of wrinkles and her eyes widened in confusion.