by Louise Lynn
"Yeah. I should get myself one of those too," she said diplomatically.
Michael shrugged. "I know you don't believe in this stuff, but I always think it's better to be safe than sorry. After I heard the stories about this place anyway," he said and shook his head.
"Who told you the stories? Was it my mom?"
Michael nodded sheepishly, and Hazel let out another sigh.
Of course. She should’ve figured.
Their footsteps squeaked up the steps of the porch to the door, which looked to be freshly painted a glossy black. The brass knocker and knob were dull in comparison. She was about to knock and announced their arrival when another car pulled up the gravel drive.
Hazel turned and raised an eyebrow. Speak of the devil, her mother's blue hatchback came to a halt beside Hazel's truck.
A moment later, her mother climbed out in a impossible number of layers, including everything from loose gray pants, a pink sarong, a flowing floral tunic, a multicolored sweater, a scarf and a purple knit hat with an overlarge pom-pom on the top. She gave the impression of an exotic bird flapping toward them.
Sure, autumn in the high Sierras was edging toward cold but that outfit was overkill.
"Oh good, I wanted to get here just as you did, dear," Maureen Hart said and gave Hazel a quick hug.
Anthony Ray butted his head into Maureen’s leg, obviously expecting pets of some nature.
From the other side of the car climbed Violet. She stared at the house in wide-eyed awe and then grinned as she ran up to Hazel. "I hope you don't mind. Esther gave me the afternoon off, and I just had to see this place."
Hazel nodded, and knocked on the door. "The more the merrier. You're here to see Patricia?" Hazel asked and looked at her mom.
Maureen nodded. She was buzzing like an excited bee. "It's been so long. She's been in Oregon for years and, finally, she comes back. But what does she do? Open this place! It's a spirit tinderbox. But it's up to her," she said and shook her head.
Hazel noticed her mother wore a number of necklaces too, most of them with odd symbols that were probably meant for protection as well.
Thankfully, Violet herself only wore one.
There were a few creaks in the house, and they stood silent on the porch and waited. Footsteps moved down the hall, and Hazel swore she saw a shape pass behind a gauzy curtain, but no one opened the door.
Odd.
She knocked again and gave Violet a half hug.
"Did your uncle say this was okay?" She tried to say it casually, but Violet still flinched.
“Uh, it's not a big deal. And I didn't specifically ask if I could go hang out at a haunted house, but if you and your mom are here, I don't think he’d have a problem with it," she said and fluttered her eyelashes.
It was a habit Violet had picked up recently, and while it didn't work on Hazel, she could see that it would work on other people. It might even work on Colton.
Violet looked a lot like her uncle, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. But Violet's hair was kept at her shoulders, and now it was tied into twin braids. Her usual outfit of an obscure band T-shirt combined with a flannel over shirt, a jean skirt and leggings, complemented by a pair of combat boots, suited her just fine.
It suited the atmosphere even more.
“I swear I saw someone in there. Why aren’t they answering the door?" Hazel said.
Anthony Ray let out a meow and pawed at the door, his tail fuzzed to the size of a bristle brush.
"I didn't see anyone," Michael said and tried to peer through a window.
Hazel wrinkled her nose and was about to say more when a woman called her name.
"Hazel Hart? And Maureen, you came!" Patricia Corning called as she hustled around the corner from the side of the weed riddled garden. She wore a pair of garden gloves, covered in black soil, and muddy boots. Besides that, her outfit was much like Hazel’s, a tunic, sweater and jeans.
Maureen Hart didn't waste any time trotting down the steps and giving her old friend a big hug.
Hazel rearranged her camera bag on her shoulder and walked down the steps to join them, Michael and Violet following.
"Oh my, how you’ve grown. I haven't seen you since you were what, twelve, Hazel? Though I swear you were this tall at the time," Patricia said with a laugh.
Hazel nodded. She was five feet nine, and had been that tall since she was eleven, much to her chagrin. “You weren't in the house?"
Patricia’s expression sobered, and she shook her head. "Oh no, dear. Of course not. I won't go in there alone. I'm not even sleeping here. I have a room at the Lodge, for now."
Hazel nodded absently. She swore she saw someone in there. Probably just a trick of the light. The creaks she heard were just an old house settling. That was it.
"Although, the caretaker's cabin is getting fixed up for this ghost hunter fellow and his friends. They’ll be working with you this week, Hazel. But don't mind them. I thought it would be interesting to get some proof. Plus, they agreed to pay a pretty penny, so I couldn't say no to that," she said with a wink. "Oh, you all look cold and famished. Come along. I can make you cocoa and give you some cookies, if you'd like."
Hazel smiled and nodded. She remembered eating cookies and drinking cocoa at Patricia's house when she was a girl. Her mother and Patricia would go on about tarot cards and the best ways to ward off spirits while Hazel and Esther ran around Patricia's vegetable garden.
When they reached the caretaker's cabin, Patricia led them inside and introductions were made. The kitchen was rustic and cozy, and they sat at a roughly hewn table as Patricia bustled about it. Maureen got up to help, and Hazel let their chatting fade into the background as she looked out the window.
Anthony Ray sniffed everything he could while still being leashed, then settled on her lap and purred once he was satisfied the domain was safe.
"You really saw something in there?" Violet said, chewing on her bottom lip.
Hazel shrugged and petted her cat absently. "Probably a trick of the light. Nothing to worry about."
Violet nodded, but the lip chewing continued. "So who's this ghost hunter that's coming?"
Michael shook his head. "Cameron Killian. From YouTube."
Violet seemed to know who Cameron Killian was, and she wrinkled her nose at the sound of his name. “Eww. Him? He looks like he fell out of the bro tree and hit every branch on the way down. I've heard rumors that he fakes evidence. Xtreme_Skeptic has a whole channel dedicated to how they fool everyone."
Hazel raised an eyebrow. She decided not to say that she thought all ghost hunters faked evidence, since ghosts weren’t real.
"Well, I'm not here to police him, just take photos of the house while they work, I guess. Actually, I'm not really clear on what my job is," Hazel said and turned as her mother and Patricia came to the table laden with mugs of cocoa and a plate piled high with cookies. They were some store-bought variety. Still, Hazel took one to be polite.
"Oh? I suppose we didn't go into detail when I called you the other week. I was just in a rush to get down here. Everything happened so fast. The old caretaker passing away and all," Patricia said and shook her head.
Maureen’s lips pulled into a frown. "Albert passed? Oh, that's too bad. I hadn't even heard about it yet."
Patricia nodded. "His family didn't want to make a fuss, and I know how rumors spread in this town. I didn't want any more bad press associated with this house. It's been a thorn in my side ever since I inherited it," she said and shook her head. “Albert loved it though. So much I couldn’t even talk to him about changing anything. But, now that he’s gone, I know what I have to do. Fix it up!"
Michael took a gulp of his hot chocolate and was left with a foamy milk mustache that he didn't bother to wipe away. "Did you grow up in the house, Ms. Corning?"
Patricia’s expression grew somber, and Hazel flinched at the question. She knew what was coming. "Oh yes. And it was terrifying. Why do you think I won’t set foot in it al
one? That house is plagued with more spirits than anyone knows what to do with. Poor old Albert was here on his own most of the time. He was paid well, of course, but as soon as I was old enough to move away, I bought a different house in town. And this one just sort of faded. It never was as famous as the other grand old homes on Lake Celeste. It’s not the Rockwell Manor, for one. Oh, and after what happened there this last spring, I can’t imagine. It got nationwide press! We heard about it in my sleepy Oregon town. Did it ever sell for much once the police were done?"
Everyone at the table nodded. Hazel, Violet and her mother had all helped solve that case.
“I heard it went for twice its value," Michael said.
Patricia’s eyes widened. “And all because of one murder? What sort of world are we living in? Do you know they open other homes with grisly murders as bed and breakfasts? The Lizzie Borden house is one, and the home of the unsolved Villisca axe murders is another. Apparently, people flock to places like that, and they’re willing to pay five hundred dollars for one night in such a location!"
Hazel caught her mother’s eye across the table. She bit her tongue to keep from saying that was the same thing Patricia herself was doing, only on a smaller scale.
"Why open it now, Patricia? You know the dangers associated with it," Maureen said and bit a cookie in half. “And to get Tess involved. You know how sensitive she is."
Patricia let out a long sigh. "I know. And I wish it weren't so vulgar, but the truth is I need the money. As I'm sure you noticed last night, Hazel, my old house had a branch fall through the roof a couple winters ago. I didn't find out about it until well after the fact and the insurance estimate won't cover the cost of the repair. I'm not sure what else to do. I already had to sell my home and stables in Oregon to come back here and deal with everything. I figured, this ghost hunting business is getting more popular, and I own an infamous haunted house, so why not? If those other places can do it, I can too. I’m fixing it up, outside and in. Then I’ll open it as the town's newest bed-and-breakfast. A haunted bed-and-breakfast," she said. “And about Tess, she seemed excited about it this afternoon. At least, I think she was excited. It’s hard to tell."
Hazel noticed the look on her mother's face, and Maureen shook her head, but didn't say what she was likely thinking. Hazel figured it was something along the lines of: more than sage would be needed to cleanse such a darkly infested home.
“What’s Tess going to do?" Hazel asked and raised her brows.
Tess was Maureen’s shop assistant or a co-owner of Esoterica—Hazel wasn’t quite certain, and tended to speak in nonsense riddles. Of course, once or twice her riddles may have helped Hazel solve a case, but that didn’t mean Tess was useful for a supposedly haunted house.
“She’s a sensitive, dear. She can talk to spirits," Maureen said.
“Exactly! She’ll be the perfect addition to your group tonight," Patricia said to Hazel.
Well, that was the first Hazel heard about Tess joining her and Michael that evening.
"Are you sure it's safe?" Maureen asked.
Patricia nodded slowly. "Well, why do you think I'm having these highly recommended ghost hunters check it out? I'm sure everything will be fine. Everyone knows that headless ghost hasn't actually killed anyone. Scared them nearly to death, but nobody's died," Patricia said with a sunny smile.
Anthony Ray twitched his tail.
Hazel wasn't sure she liked the way the woman worded that.
Chapter 4
Dusk fell quicker than Hazel liked.
For one, she and Michael hadn’t gotten a chance to look around the house in daylight, and with the deepening shadows, it wouldn't make setting up their equipment much easier. Though, she wasn't going to have a static camera sitting around. Not with ghost hunters prowling the place and whoever else came for the haunted house tour Patricia was also offering.
In fact, interest in her house was so strong that the line outside was much longer than Hazel would have guessed.
Then again, it was the infamous Massacre Mansion, and it had been boarded up since Hazel was a girl. No wonder people were interested in what lurked inside.
Probably nothing but cobwebs and dust, she thought, but she didn't tell the eager patrons that.
Though she did raise an eyebrow at Patricia's entry cost—ten dollars a head. That should net her a tidy profit by Halloween, for sure.
Thankfully, Patricia didn't mind Anthony Ray's presence, and she’d also better explained what she was expecting Hazel to do. She wanted pictures for the brochure of her haunted bed and breakfast. Ones that showed both how beautiful and luxurious the property was while also conveying how creepy and haunted it was as well.
Hazel wasn't sure how she was going to pull off the last bit, but she would try her best.
Patricia also wanted them to accompany Tess, who had yet to arrive, and take photos while she communed with the dead.
As the eager patrons lined up outside, Hazel and Michael stepped into the house first. Patricia stood next to them, and Hazel noticed a shiver go up the older woman's spine.
Hazel tried to prevent the same thing from happening to her, but the house was chilly. Perhaps slightly colder than it was outside.
Anthony Ray’s tail fizzed, and he stayed close to Hazel's legs, not wandering off like he usually did.
"Is it just me or is it cold in here?" Michael said and rubbed his arms. He wore one of his college sweatshirts—the one with the chocolate stain on the sleeve.
Hazel nodded slowly. "You know how Cedar Valley is this time of year."
Patricia shook her head. "This has nothing to do with the temperature outside. I can assure you both that Pearl House is cold even in the dead of summer on the hottest days."
Hazel bit her lip to keep from complimenting the woman on her obviously superior insulation. She knew what Patricia was getting at—ghosts made the house cold.
"Well, I have a map of the layout, and I need to get ready to give this tour, but feel free to wander around and take photos at your leisure. Everyone who signed up for the tour also had to sign a model release form, so you can snap photos of whoever you'd like. I’d also like if you stuck around for Mr. Killian and his friends later tonight, just in case something supernatural happens. I'd love for you to catch it as well." Her eyes sparkled when she said it.
Hazel nodded. “Of course. That's what you're paying me for." She tried to smile, though she was afraid it came out as a grimace.
Patricia left them in the entryway, and went outside to greet the crowd.
Michael frowned, his face lined with the gathering shadows.
Hazel sucked in a deep breath, which smelled like dust and damp, and gave him a forced grin. "Well, let’s see what the lighting situation is like. We’re going to have to split up for this, so let's hope your ghost ward works."
Michael nodded hesitantly, but at least he didn't complain.
Hazel and Anthony Ray walked in one direction, and Michael headed off in the other.
A grand staircase opened at the edge of the entryway, but Hazel decided to leave upstairs for later. For now, they had the downstairs to explore. At least the electricity worked.
Much to Hazel's surprise, the furniture was still intact. She always assumed that it had been cleared out at some point, leaving the interior bare. Instead, it looked like it had all been covered in large white sheets that had recently been removed. There were still traces of dust on the floor, and footprints scuffed through it.
The furniture in the first room, which she assumed was a sitting room, looked like it belonged at the turn of the 20th century. There were high backed couches upholstered in deep blue velvet. The wallpaper was an ornate design and somewhere between gold and yellow with royal blue stripes. It was too busy for modern taste, but it suited such an ostentatious home.
Anthony Ray padded next to her silently. Hazel glanced down at her cat. "Yeah, this place begs you not to talk, huh?"
Anthony Ray didn't answer
.
The sconces on the walls looked to be original as well, though they were electric. The bulbs were dim and didn't cast much light through the room, so she needed to use her high-powered Nikon and the slowest shutter setting. Otherwise, her photos would be grainy and out of focus.
Still, simple enough, but she’d need the tripod as well. At least she’d packed a couple of them. She sat one down in the corner of that room and made her way around the rest of the downstairs.
Like most turn-of-the-century mansions on the lake, it had far too much room for a single-family. A sitting room, the kitchen, a formal and informal dining room—though she supposed the informal was reserved for the servants and not the family themselves—a basement that she didn't bother traversing. Hazel told herself it had nothing to do with the dank chill coming up from it, or the pitch-black shadows that surrounded the stairway.
She'd try it later, of course.
After she finished looking through the kitchen, which seemed like it hadn't been updated since sometime in the 1930s, she moved on to the final set of rooms. One was a formal living area, which had a huge fireplace that rivaled the one at Cedar Lodge up on the hill.
It looked like it hadn't been used in ages, and nor had it been cleaned. Great black soot marks marred the inside and ran up the stone on the outside. It was roughly hewn granite, similar to Hazel's own fireplace, though hers was significantly more modern.
That room was also lined with dark wooden furniture and velvet upholstered couches. The floor was similarly dusty, beautiful dark hardwood. A single door opened off of that room, and it was currently closed.
"Michael?" she called into the silent house.
Silence rang in her ears.
She heard a shuffle of footsteps, and Michael's muffled voice from somewhere near the kitchen. "I'm over here. I found some cookies, do you think I can have some?"
Hazel chuckled. "As long as they're not a hundred years old, go ahead," she said and moved toward the closed door.