Mysteerie Manor

by Sharon Hays

  “Hello Liz, how are you doing?”

  “Well, hello Joan. It’s always so nice to see you. I’ve been doing well. How have you been?”

  “I’m just wonderful. Have to get some paperwork checked out, to finish a closing. Hope you can help me.” She laid out the title documents that needed verification, and a few other minor property issues to complete.

  “This will be easy. Be right back.” The clerk bustled off to a room adjacent to the office. In no time at all, she was back with the paperwork she needed for the title.

  “Here you are, Joan.” Looking at the other papers, only a few minor details were left to cover. Liz was very efficient at her job, and she quickly finished up.

  “I think we’re done here, Joan. Is there anything else I can help you with?” She beamed across the counter, her rosy cheeks glowing.

  “You are such a wizard, Liz. What would they do without you here? Or better yet, what would I do without you?”

  Joan left the building, relieved that she completed the title-work and returned to her office. All she had left was an appointment with Brad Findlay. Brad was a tall, muscular, good-looking bank executive from Joan’s bank. He was a nice enough person, but Joan always thought he seemed a little arrogant. Joan stepped into the powder room to freshen up, heard the chimes, and walked out into the office. There was Brad in all his glory, wearing an expensive pin stripe suit, a three-hundred-dollar tie, and shoes worth three times that.

  “Hello, Brad. It’s nice to see you again. You are looking well. Sit please, and we’ll get right down to business.” She motioned toward the brown leather chair where he sat down, and leaned back, and offered a half smile.

  “Joan, it’s nice to see you, too. You are also looking very well.” His brown eyes seemed even more stunning than she remembered. He definitely could have been a great model, she thought to herself as she prepared the paperwork for him to review. Anything else would never fit with his personality, from the way Joan saw it.

  “Here you are.” She handed him the documents, and he carefully examined each page. After several minutes, he signed and initialed the pages, handing them back to her. She admired his gorgeous smile, exposing the most beautiful teeth she has seen in quite awhile. Something about his looks always caught her off-guard. She tried hard not to notice.

  “Thank you, Brad. Everything seems in order.” She examined the papers, making sure all was correct and complete. “There really is not much more to do except wait for the sellers to complete their end of it. I think it is a wise investment. You won’t be sorry, I’m sure.”

  “I agree, it was a lucky find, and I owe it to your expertise. You have always been a great broker. This is the third good property investment you have turned me onto, Joan. I appreciate it, and want you to know that I pass the word on. Incidentally, can I get some more cards from you?

  “Of course, I have some right here. Thank you for the compliments and I appreciate your passing the word. I can always use new clients.”

  “Actually, I have a friend coming into town from New York. He is formerly from Italy, and has chosen Boulder as a place to settle down, after carefully searching several areas. He is looking to purchase a property in the mountains, outside of Boulder, but not too far out. If you have anything on the outskirts, in the higher-end for sale, let me know. I’ll introduce you when he arrives. His name is Lawrence Bonicelli. Apparently, his relatives used to live here, many years ago. They were related to the people who built the old Valencia Manor across town. Know which one I’m talking about?”

  “Yes, actually, I do. That is very interesting. I will look forward to meeting him when he is in town. Just give me a call and I’ll make time. Meanwhile, I’ll keep my eyes open for something outside of Boulder. If I find something that sounds great, I’ll let you know, Brad.”

  Brad stood up, offered her his hand, and started to walk out of the office. She stood there thinking that maybe she had misjudged him. He seemed so genuine today, unlike the other times she had met him. He seemed like a totally different kind of person. Having that kind of looks could be a hard thing to deal with, but I’m sure if one had a choice, they would definitely chose looks over personality.

  “Wait, I’ll walk you to the door, Brad.” She opened the door as he walked out with a cheerful demeanor. As she went back inside, she was still stunned by the revelation of a Bonicelli related to the original owners of the Manor. This was getting more fascinating by the day. One more piece of the puzzle to add to the Farthington Mystery. Can’t wait to tell Maryanne. She got her mind going again, thinking about Maryanne, and wondered why Steve had not called. Although she hated bothering him, she dialed the number to his cell and waited.

  “Joan… Sorry I haven’t called, but a lot has been going on here. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m doing fine, just thinking about Maryanne and decided to check in. I know you’re busy.”

  “We haven’t found Maryanne, but I have some bad news, I’m afraid. Recent evidence leads us to believe that she was here, and then someone must have abducted, and moved her. There has not been a call, note, or indication of ransom at this point, but I am sure we will get something very soon. I’ve been trying to find the time to call you, but it’s been a madhouse around the station. I have to go, and I’ll call you as soon as I am able to.

  Trying to hold back her feelings, she hung up the phone and her eyes filled with tears. As she sat down in the office chair, all her attention was once again on Maryanne.

  16

  Maryanne woke up in total darkness. There was no sign of light, and the dampness sent chills through her entire body. She reached her hand out to feel the surroundings. Pulling herself up to a sitting position, she soon realized she was not in the room and not on the bed but on the ground. Her hands searched carefully, feeling what seemed to be a torn blanket over cold ground. She felt cool, damp earth crumbling between her fingers. As she continued, she discovered a stone or rock wall close to where she had been lying. As she ran her hands over the wall, she became aware that this must be underground. She envisioned images of a well, or an underground cavern, perhaps. The cold dampness clung to her skin, making her shiver, sometimes uncontrollably. Crawling around, feeling rock walls and cold, clammy earth, Maryanne tried to find some way out of this ghostly cell of horror.

  The stillness was uncanny. No sounds of any life at all were present. She could hear the sound of her own breathing and heartbeat. As she crawled on her knees across the damp floor, she hoped to find something or some way to escape this hell on earth and then she finally broke down.

  “Help me, someone! Please, can anybody hear me?” She screamed loudly, praying for someone, anyone to hear. “Oh my God! Don’t let me die here, please. Where am I?” She sobbed and screamed out, praying for help, trying not to lose hope, trying to keep her sanity.

  As Maryanne lay there staring into emptiness, she heard the sound of a machine or mechanical device she could not identify. She stood up, feeling her way around the walls, trying to figure out where it was coming from. The sound seemed to come from far above her, in the distance. She pressed her ear against the wall. Edging around the room, she felt rock, earth, and wood in various areas of the small room. As she reached a corner, she continued to follow the wall, feeling for an exit. There it was again! The insidious noise. Louder by the minute; it was the sound of something or someone coming.

  “Help me!” She screamed into the empty cavern. The walls muffled the screams. “Please, Help me. Help Me!” she yelled, falling down to her knees again, exhausted and thirsty. Her throat could barely carry the screams. It was there again. The vibrations were much closer. Forcing herself to stand up, she began to feel around the walls once more. Above her, the sounds of squeaky hinges echoed on the walls of the tomb. A door opened, and sprays of dim light fell across the earthen room. Maryanne could, again, hear the sound of a wheezing breath.

  “Who are you? Why am I here?” Her raspy voice could barely get the w
ords out. Crying, sobbing, praying, she stood waiting for this unknown visitor to enter her tomb. She could hear someone breathing, and a putrid odor enveloped the room. It sounded as if someone jumped to the ground. There was a shuffling noise. The sounds of feet dragging across the floor. Shuffling… breathing… closer, she could feel the ominous presence of this creature from hell. She felt clammy fingers around her wrist. The sharp, claw-like nails cut into her flesh, burning with pain.

  “You’re hurting me! What are you doing?” she pleaded with the ghastly beast.

  “Loud, piercing sounds filled the unearthly grave. Maryanne fell to the ground, helpless and weak. Unable to defend herself, she huddled into the corner of the room on the clammy dirt floor. “Don’t make me suffer anymore. Tell me what you want.” she whispered in her weak, exasperated voice. Then she fell into unconsciousness again, and relief from this living nightmare.

  17

  Midnight, and the team of searchers had found nothing of any significance to explain Maryanne’s disappearance. Nothing to suggest a ransom of any kind has been discovered.

  “Time to call it a night, guys. We’ll resume this tomorrow. The electricians are still trying to get the lights on in this damn place! Maybe tomorrow we’ll get lucky.” Chief Olson ordered his crew. The four-person team gathered up their belongings and left the house, locking it up for the night.

  “Steve, this is Chief Olson, we’re calling it a night,” he radioed in to Officer Tratnik. “I want a car posted at the Valencia ‘till morning.”

  “You got it, Chief. I’ll take care of that order and then I’m checking out. I’m going to check in on Miss Bishop, then head for the house. If you need me, call my cell.” Steve gave the order for the guards and left the station. A few minutes later, Steve parked his squad car on the street in front of Joan’s house. He walked to her door and knocked.

  “Joan, its Steve Tratnik.”

  Joan had been watching the news when Steve came to the door. She opened it with no hesitation and took from him a much-needed hug. “I am so glad it’s you. Thanks for coming.” Her heart raced. She realized she could be falling in love with Steve and hoped she would not be too obvious and too willing a candidate for his affection. Whatever it was, Joan could not seem to control her feelings for Steve, as much as she wanted to hold back.

  “You smell good. I like the perfume.” Steve held her and looked down into her sexy brown eyes. “Want me to stay the night?”

  She didn’t have to say a word; the magnetism was too strong to resist as they came together in a passionate embrace that led to a long awaited storm of pent up emotions. They kissed and embraced all the way through the house, where he pushed her onto the bed, she unbuttoning his shirt and the rest needs no explaining, not waiting another second for his manliness to enter. Something she had been aching for since they met. Their passion was finally realized in lovemaking that continued off and on for what seemed like hours. They settled back against the pillows, holding each other in quiet understanding. Sleep eventually took them through the rest of the night.

  Seven o’clock in the morning, and Joan awakened to the sound of her shower. The bathroom door was partly open; steam rolling out. When she recalled the prior night’s events, she sat back against the pillows, smiling and reassured. This was the real thing. It wasn’t like the crazy one-night stands that she had encountered in her past. She actually felt love and passion in a deep and serious way, entwined together with a friendship. She realized how important it was, and what she had been missing for so long. Joan took her silk robe, walked into the bathroom, dropped it onto the floor, and entered the shower.

  “Need some company?” She joined Steve in a repeat performance of a romantic fantasy…

  “Time to go. Duty calls. I’ll touch base if there is any news of Maryanne.” He gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, winked, and put on his ball cap. Joan sat on the bar stool, sipping her morning coffee.

  “Don’t get up, finish your coffee.” He blew her a kiss and was out the door. She reflected on the night’s emotional exposé. Her thoughts again, were quickly flashing back to the dilemma and Maryanne, as all the night’s pleasure disappeared from her thoughts. It would be another day of worrying, wondering and waiting. Joan prayed for this nightmare to end.

  She finished her makeup, picked up the heavy briefcase, and was off to the office. Upon arrival, Mrs. Dirkshire’s old Cadillac sat waiting. She could see Irene’s white puff of hair through the window of the old white relic. Edging up next to the sleek, 1960 Fleetwood, she rolled down her window.

  “Hello, Irene. It’s wonderful to see you.” Joan opened the car door for the lovely woman. Irene was wearing a light blue dress, which brought out the color in her sparkling eyes. She was smiling and happy, as usual.

  “Good morning, Joan.” Irene held onto her small, hand-carved cane, moved around, and pulled herself out of the car. Joan held her hand until she was standing firmly, and was able to move forward independently. Mrs. Dirkshire held on to her tattered leather satchel, as if it were glued to her side.

  “How are you doing, Mrs. Dirkshire?” Joan walked by her side as she gently held the woman’s tiny elbow, giving her added support on the way up the steps to the office.

  “I’m perfect as punch,” she replied in her quaint mannerism.

  “I’m going to make you a cup of hot chamomile tea, and I have a couple of nice bagels for us. Also, cream cheese and that homemade jelly you like so much that I got from Mrs. Riley at the fair. Then we can sit and chat, while you let me know what you have on your mind. How does that sound?”

  “Oh, Joan, it sounds lovely. You are such a sweet thing. I didn’t have time to eat much this morning, and I’m glad I didn’t.”

  Joan led her to a comfortable armchair and took her cane, leaning it against the wall behind her, as Mrs. Dirkshire relaxed into the soft chair, her tiny body surrounded by soft pillows. She kept her black satchel, protectively by her side.

  Eyes twinkling, her smile lit up the room. “It’s very soft.”

  “Wonderful. Now you relax, and I’ll be right back with the good stuff.” Joan went to the serving area and prepared the tea that she knew Irene loved.

  “Here, Irene. I have a small tray for you, so it will be easier to reach. Enjoy the tea.” She placed the tray in front of her and returned with the bagels. Mrs. Dirkshire sipped the hot tea and prepared a bagel, with cheese and jam.

  “This is wonderful, thank you, Joan. Now I want to show you something I found last night just before bedtime.” She opened her black bag as she spoke. “When I took my robe off the hanger, it fell to the floor. When I picked it up, I saw a small wooden box and a manila envelope in the corner of the closet. I pulled them over to me with my grabber tool and picked them up. As I went through the envelope, I found a key and some papers. I didn’t want to go through them last night. Figured I would leave that up to you. Here, let me show you the box.” She reached into her bag and drew out the large manila envelope, followed by a crude, hand-carved wooden box. Handing Joan her discoveries, she looked up at her.

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to find something in here that is connected to the Valencia Manor.” Mrs. Dirkshire was aware of Maryanne’s disappearance, by now, as Sheriff Baxter had spoken to her the day before. She had been very upset by the news, and hoped this would shed some light on the investigation.

  “Now, I am going to eat my bagel, while you go through the papers and box. It looks scrumptious.” She picked up the bagel with her tiny, frail fingers and tasted the jelly.

  “That Mrs. Riley makes the best jellies in the state of Colorado.”

  While Joan opened the envelope, Irene concentrated on the bagel. Joan slid the brass key into the keyhole, and the box opened smoothly. She lifted the lid, taking care not to damage the hinges of the fragile antique. Inside was a carved wooden stamp with the imprint of what looked like a coat of arms.

  “Are you familiar with this emblem, Mrs. Dirkshire?” She held the sta
mp out, revealing the symbol.

  “No, I don’t recognize it at all. What is it?”

  “A coat of arms, I think. It can symbolize a society or family. I think it has something to do with the original owners of the Manor and their heritage, if I am not mistaken. Here, take a look at this… a document with the emblem imprinted on the top. ‘Bonicelli coat of arms’… it states right here. This is a spectacular find, Irene. Thanks for showing it to me. Joan began taking out more pictures and documents, some of which needed to be authorized and certified. This will enable us to collect past information on the family in Italy, and the heritage. I sure do appreciate your help, and will take good care of these things for you. As soon as I get more information, I’ll let you know.”

  “Anything I can do to help.” The two visited awhile, and then Mrs. Dirkshire had to leave.

  “I belong to a club at the Senior Center, and we are playing bridge today. I cannot miss that. It’s my favorite card game, and I must say, I’m pretty good at it,” she snickered sheepishly with her infectious smile.

  Joan helped her out of the big easy chair, slipping the cane into her right hand. Mrs. Dirkshire held onto her bag with her left, and began walking toward the door. Joan walked beside her down the stairs, helping her into the old Fleetwood. Closing the door, Joan backed away and watched as the charming woman drove away. The antique Caddy still sounded almost as good as new. A collector would give a lot for that car, she thought.