Murder Mansion

by M K Scott

  Her driving had reached almost a Zen-like state where she could make the correct turns without too much thought. Her contemplation moved onto the linoleum. “The foyer floor with its faded and pitted linoleum. Could be original.”

  Jasper whined a little and scratched at the window. Donna’s foot tapped the accelerator until she reached four miles an hour over the speed limit. Surely, no one would pull her over for that. If an officer did, she’d explain her dog needed to use the facilities. A laugh escaped her lips as she imagined the reaction of a stoic cop trying to keep a straight face.

  “We’ll be there soon, boy.” Normally, the worst thing you could do to a person who had to go to the bathroom was mention it. It might apply to dogs too. Another drawn-out whimper had her changing back to home renovation mode.

  “Did you know when Linoleum was invented it was super expensive? It cost more than marble tile.” No sound from her companion, but at least he wasn’t whimpering, which could be a good sign. Think good thoughts. Jasper had never had an accident in the car before.

  “It was such a big deal that they installed it on the grand staircase of the Titanic.” The reflective street sign announcing her street glimmered as her headlights caught it. Her goal was to make it before nightfall, but the sun had already dropped, leaving a shadowy twilight in its wake.

  “Some light is better than no light.”

  The car bumped up the driveway, dipping and swaying as the tires took some minor potholes as she maneuvered around the larger ones. Another significant expense and not one she could sidestep either. Parking off the street, especially with her bizarre tape-measuring neighbor, ranked higher than curb appeal. A review that mentioned a visitor’s car being towed wouldn’t garner her any stars.

  The car came to a halt at the kitchen entrance. No welcoming lights inside or outside the house, which puzzled her. Hadn’t she deliberately turned on the exterior porch light as she left? Could be that Daniel had turned it off, unaware of her plan to return. Even if she weren’t returning, the light would still serve as a security measure.

  Oh well. She opened the car door, considering the location of her flashlight when Jasper used her lap as a launching pad, sinking his needle-sharp nails into her thighs before jumping. Guess he really had to go.

  Bent at the waist, she felt under the seat for the flashlight. Finally, her fingers snagged the cylinder and drew it out at the same time Jasper started barking. Great, she’d hoped her overnight stay would be a secret. Nothing better to announce a clandestine visit than a barking canine. Her hand still clutching the flashlight, she lunged out of the driver’s seat to find and hush her pet.

  The tenor of Jasper’s barks changed and moved away from the house, but she took the time to turn and lock the car with her fob before shoving the keys in her pocket. The rapid barking meant her dog was in pursuit of a rabbit or squirrel. She jogged by ragged shrubs and turned at the landscaping barn, which served as a euphemism for the half tumbled down shed that shielded a rusty mower. An item on her list to tear down, especially since her taxes went up for each building on her property. Whatever Jasper was chasing would take him onto the adjoining property.

  A long shadow appeared to her right side, which she dodged. The faint light of the newly risen moon, along with the ambient lighting from the street lights, turned the early evening into a gray landscape filled with dark shapes. Some were identifiable as trees or houses, but not all. Her toe caught on something, sending her to the ground with a bone-rattling plop. The flashlight bounced out of her hand with the fall and flicked on as it hit the ground.

  Geesh, the flashlight. Why hadn’t she turned it on? Donna stared at the flashlight’s yellow beam as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Jasper’s barking stopped abruptly. Whatever he was chasing had eluded him. Her housebound pooch often thought himself a great hunter but hadn’t managed to catch anything the entire time she’d owned him. Not that she wanted a dead rabbit or a chewed-on bird presented to her as a gift, she didn’t.

  She sat for a few seconds catching her breath and waiting for Jasper to return. Her eyes went back to the yellow beam illuminating a footprint in the grassless stretch of the yard. The beam highlighted the grooves and lines of an athletic shoe in the soft earth. A good-sized print, obviously an adult’s, but whose? Someone who had no business around her house, that’s for sure.

  Agitated panting announced Jasper as he trotted back to her side Her pooch was never much on the actual chase. His mode included a loud, short pursuit. Perhaps he was more guard dog than she originally suspected. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the uneven ground as she pushed to her knees. It would have been helpful if she had seen her unwelcome visitor. No doubt, it would have been a less-than-friendly meeting. Her fingers massaged the back of her neck as she considered the possibility of coming face to face with a possible felon. Her sense of unease increased as she reached for the flashlight.

  The girl detective scenario deviated from the script she had written in her mind. Her left knee, which took the brunt of her fall, ached. Yeah, physical injury chasing her dog hadn’t been part of the plan. The slam of a house door sounded in the distance. Probably just a nosy neighbor kid; she’d already experienced what lengths a teen would go to. It would make a good story at school, especially with some embellishments like a ghost.

  The faint memory of a ghostly figure demanding she find his killer needled her into action. She reached for the flashlight and turned it back toward the way she came. Long, twisted roots stretched across the ground like the gnarled, knobby fingers of an old crone, which made it surprising she had only fallen once.

  The footprint nagged at her. A slow wave of the light revealed only a single print due to the reappearance of tufts of grass and the multitude of roots. No path to follow that would lead her to the possible killer, but more likely to her self-styled teenage reporter. Might as well unpack the car and get settled in. A sharp stab of pain went through her knee, causing her to stumble at its suddenness. Tightening her muscles, she managed to stay upright. “I’ll have to ice my knee.”

  Most likely there wasn’t any ice in the fridge and she didn’t feel like a road trip to get any. A bath and two painkillers should do the trick. Although the thought of sitting in a bathtub in a house where a man had died left a damp residue on her skin as if touched by ghostly hands as opposed to the evening dew.

  The round sphere of light spotlighted her feet and about a yard around them. Plenty of obstacles to trip up an unwary homeowner. The footprint made her wonder about her visitor. Made her question if her uninvited guest had any trouble making his or her way through the obstacle course. It could have been luck, youth or a deep familiarity with the terrain that allowed her visitor to dodge known tree roots. A sparkle reflected the light back to her. What was that?

  The toe of her right foot nudged whatever it was into the light. The bag sported plenty of sequins in various colors, a grade-school girl’s dream of total sophistication. It glittered under the flashlight’s beam. Strange. What child abandoned her pack? Perhaps it wasn’t just teens who had used the previously vacant house as their own personal space. Her reaching hand almost had the bag until she realized it could be evidence.

  Her hand fell to her side as she regarded the bag half-hidden by the dark bushes. Would any self-respecting felon use such an eye-catching bag? She doubted it. Still, she considered how she might retrieve it without putting her fingerprints all over it. A nearby stick served as answer. The diameter of the stick was bigger than her thumb but had the lightweight feel of something that had been long dead and all the life leaked out into the ground in the intervening time.

  The jagged tip went under a strap of the bag. A shimmy of the stick moved the strap down farther to the meatier section. Okay, she had it. Inhaling, she lifted it. The rod bowed under the weight. Donna had to use her second hand to grip her first hand to support it. What could be in the bag?

  She’d moved about a foot when the stick broke, se
nding the bag crashing to the ground with a clunk and a shatter of glass. Just enough to send Jasper into a barking frenzy. Great. She had probably just destroyed whatever was in the bag. Strangulation wasn’t the result of being in contact with glass. The bag could be a red herring. A slight, sweet smell came from the bag, almost gagging in its intensity. Her hands served as an impromptu fan. “Ugh.”

  The smell dissipated quickly in the night air. Even so, there was something familiar about it that stroked an old memory. Two of her high school girlfriends and she had indulged in a pity party due to not having prom dates. Part of the celebration included drinking sickly sweet strawberry wine that she threw up later in the holly bushes of her own home. Her mother had blamed it on Joe, the raucous teen next door. What she needed was gloves and not some puny stick. As a nurse, she had tucked in her glove compartment a plastic bag with latex gloves and a mask in case she came into contact with blood or airborne pathogens. With the gloves on, she could pick up the bag.

  The first thing she did after grabbing the bag was to open the back door. The empty house had a breath of expectancy about it, as if waiting for someone or something. Crazy. If anyone else had said such a thing, she’d point out that buildings didn’t have feelings. The second thing she did was turn on the radio she had left behind to break the silence. The third thing was call Tabor.

  “Hey, I know it’s late, but I may have information.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She explained briefly about Jasper’s chase, the footprint and the bag. “I think there may have been a recent trespasser.”

  “You are where right now?”

  “At the inn, where else would I be?”

  The long sigh carried over the phone. “Okay. I’ll be there in ten.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sudden disconnect miffed Donna, but Mark hadn’t launched into a lecture on the stupidity of camping out in the building. Daniel would have. Still, it was her house and she could do whatever she wanted, although the idea of an impromptu sleepover had paled a little when she fell.

  In the intervening time, she moved the bag to the kitchen counter, noticing when she swung it out of Jasper’s range that it was more the size of an adult backpack. Not the hiking kind, but the average “I don’t have enough junk for a suitcase” type. The tingling sound it made when she moved it confirmed broken glass.

  A few more trips gathered the rest of her supplies. By the time Taber arrived, she’d have her room set up. She pulled the unwieldy airbed up the stairs to the first bedroom. Difficult, but not impossible, but some type of lift would help a wheelchair-bound patron or an unusual amount of luggage. Her lips twisted as she considered some diva arriving with six pieces of matching luggage. It made no sense, but high-maintenance women seldom did.

  The first bedroom earned the honor of being her home for the night. It could use some dusting, but the overhead light worked. The ugly cheap light fixture rested left of center of the ornate ceiling medallion. It spoiled the look of the entire room. Wall sconces would look better and bathe the room in a more flattering light. The right ambiance would ensure a good review and a possible return business. The fixture earned another squint-eyed glare.

  “More expenses. Additional wiring.” She nodded to the dog, who followed her up. “That doesn’t come cheap either. No doubt the electrician will tell me he can’t wire anything new into the old wiring because it’s out of code.”

  The air bed box resisted her tugging but finally ripped, sending her flat on her back for her efforts. Donna unfolded the mattress before attempting inflation. The electric pump gave a wheeze and a gurgle before erupting into a loud whine that set Jasper into barking mode. The flat plastic mat grew into something that resembled a king-sized bed if it were made out of plastic and covered with a terry-cloth top. The pump shuttered to a stop.

  “That’s it.”

  She unplugged the pump as she watched her dog cautiously sniff the perimeter of the bed. The sheets fit a little looser than she expected. It could be the smooth plastic sides didn’t provide any friction to adhere to the material.

  A loud shout from downstairs startled her.

  “Donna!”

  Taber, of course. “Up here!” she shouted back as she made her way to the stairs. Her hand smoothed over the banister as she considered the possibility of a chair lift marring the elegant symmetry of the staircase.

  The good detective sported jeans and a hoodie, an unexpected fashion choice. It worked, except for the scowl that accompanied it.

  “Why did you leave your back door wide open?”

  “I didn’t.” Her denial was barely out as she considered her various trips into the house. There’d been more than a half a dozen, but each time she’d intentionally closed the door. She had thought she locked it, but a few times the knob twisted easily under her hand proving it didn’t always catch.

  “It was open when I drove up.”

  Donna skirted the man as she darted toward the kitchen. The empty kitchen counter where she’d left the bag mocked her.

  Gone. Possibly the only lead she had for her murderer was in that bag. Her open palm slapped the kitchen counter, causing pain to radiate through each finger. She made a fist, checking for the possibility of broken bones.

  Taber had followed her into the room. “What are you doing?”

  “Reacting to my stupidity in an obviously stupid way.” If only she had taken a few seconds to check the door, she’d still have the backpack.

  A furrowed brow and a softer expression replaced his scowl. “Are you okay? Can you get me up to speed as far as what is going on here?”

  “Mmm,” she stalled as she reviewed the events in her mind. “Daniel and I were working on the house today.”

  “Caught the smell of primer when I entered. Then what?” He circled his hand for her to continue.

  Her first impulse was to tell him if he wanted her to get on with her story that he shouldn’t interrupt. Her nostrils flared a little as she struggled to suppress the comment. Think polite and hospitable B and B owner. Being the congenial innkeeper might be the hardest part of owning an inn.

  “I noticed how interested the neighbors were about someone moving in. They wanted specifics. I thought if the murderer is a local, he may return to the house to either erase evidence or plant some. The best deal would be to sneak in and stay overnight. That way I could catch the perpetrator.”

  Taber’s mouth drew down at an angle. “Your brother was okay with this?”

  Her hands fisted before she rested them on her hips. She considered lying, but it would be her luck that Taber would feel the need to talk to Daniel all in the course of the case. “I’m an adult and a property owner. Besides, we aren’t joined at the hip.”

  “Ha, it means he doesn’t know. Wouldn’t approve.” His arms folded against his chest ready for a confrontation.

  “What is this, the Victorian period? I don’t need a male family member to rubber stamp all my decisions.” Why had she ever found him attractive in a rumpled sort of way?

  He flung out one arm, gesturing to the house. “I figured if you were so in love with the Victorian period that you might embrace some of their sensibilities. I didn’t realize things would have to be spelled out for you.” Color crept up his neck, giving him the ruddy glow of a hard drinker or rising blood pressure.

  “What do you have to spell out? The house is no longer a crime scene. It’s my place to do with as I want.” This was the real reason she didn’t marry, because men were so sure their way was the only way. She lifted her chin, daring him. Her brother would have recognized the look and backpedaled.

  “True.”

  His acknowledgment made her forget what she wanted to say.

  “I worry about you, more than I should. There is a killer out there.”

  Her cheeks rounded as she blew out a long breath. It was hard to be too mad at a man who worried about her. She wasn’t sure when a non-related male had ever cared about her. “I thought
that too, but now I think it is more teenage misadventure. The house has been empty for a long time. A great place for two young lovers to meet even if was on my back porch.”

  “Don’t dismiss this too soon. I know you want everything tied up in a neat package, but it bears investigation.”

  Instead of acknowledging his remark, her gaze went over his shoulder to a rough spot on the wall that primer failed to disguise. The corners of her mouth pulled down. Yeah, of course, she wanted this all tied up. Thought the real work would be in renovation, possibly running the place, not avoiding a killer who also moonlighted as a home squatter.

  Conflicted with what to do about the bag stealer, she wondered how to make her impromptu camping trip sound reasonable. “I stopped by the store to get a few things for my stay. When I arrived here, Jasper jumped out of my car and started chasing someone or something. I followed with my flashlight until I stumbled. When I did, I saw a footprint. Didn’t think too much of it since my property may have been teen rendezvous central as long as it was vacant. On my way back to the house, I spotted a sequinned bag, which I assumed belonged to a child. Still,” she drew out the word, emphasizing it, before continuing, “I used precautions as to not disturb evidence.” No reason to mention dropping the bag and breaking the contents inside if the bag were missing.

  Mark lifted two fingers to his lips in what Donna had already mentally dubbed his thinking pose. His eyes rolled upward as he organized information. “Good job,” he finally commented. “I assume the bag owner retrieved it from the kitchen.”