“I’d like to see the actual books, please,” she assured the librarian. Mrs. Perch nodded with satisfaction and led her to the local history shelf and showed her the slim volume of Sweetfern Harbor history that she had been thinking of. Brenda sat down at one of the quiet reading tables and eagerly cracked open the slightly dusty book.
Chapter Two
Mysteries Unfolded
When Brenda ran her thumb down the table of content she stopped at Chapter Three that was headed Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. She quickly found the page and began reading. The first two pages spoke mainly of the early history she already knew about. Then something caught her eye. There was a reprinted newspaper article about a long-ago murder. As she read on, she learned that right around the time it was built, the Queen Anne mansion had been used as a hostel for travelers, while the proprietor and caretakers lived in nearby cottages. The crime took place in 1886, long before her Uncle Randolph was even born.
The newspaper article recounted that a young family had stayed in the hostel in adjoining rooms on the second floor. One of the children had become ill in the night and their mother had remained in the other room with the children for the rest of the night. In the morning, when she returned to her room, she discovered her husband had been stabbed to death. But the doors of the passageway between the two rooms had been closed and she had heard nothing.
It took the police some time but they finally ruled out the wife, the other guests, and the various workers. The police scoured the countryside searching for vagrants or escaped criminals who might have broken in, but turned up not a single lead. No weapon was ever found, either. After a time it became an unsolved mystery and faded in the public’s memory. Brenda looked up from the book with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew without a doubt that there was only one set of adjoining rooms on the second floor. From her uncle’s careful paperwork, she also knew that no major renovations had taken place on that floor, either, which could only mean that the 1886 murder had taken place in the same room where Ellen Teague had been brutally murdered.
She kept reading. Two pages later there was another article, a clipping from a society gossip column in 1891. At that time, the house was owned by a family who had use it as a private home. They were prominent citizens who liked to entertain and since there were plenty of rooms to house overnight guests, they took full advantage. One weekend prior to the annual seaside ball, the family and their guests had enjoyed a dinner party and retired to what was now known as the sitting room to play card games. It was well past midnight when one woman fell ill. She excused herself, and her husband escorted her upstairs to ensure she was comfortable, and then he returned downstairs.
But an hour later, the woman came running down the stairs in her nightgown, shaking uncontrollably and claiming to have seen a ghost in her room. She said she had been awoken because she was freezing cold, only to be terrified by an apparition. The others consoled her, but believed she was merely hysterical with fever and called the local doctor. It caused quite a stir when she ignored the doctor’s stern advice and convinced her husband that they should leave the next day at dawn. The gossip column soon turned to other topics and Brenda skimmed through, but all she learned was that in that era spirits and seances were popular. However, high society families like the owners of the mansion it was seen as a hobby better left to charlatans.
Mrs. Perch stuck her head in the doorway of the reading room. “Have you found anything interesting?” Brenda told her of her findings. “Oh yes, I had forgotten those old stories. Do you think your guests would enjoy hearing about that?”
“I’m not too sure. I had no idea another murder had happened there,” Brenda said, looking at the book in dismay.
“I can tell you more, unless you want to keep reading,” Mrs. Perch said. “Only three incidents are in that book.” She pointed to the second book, a later edition. “The second one will tell you of two more deaths there.”
Brenda gaped. She turned the page reluctantly to see the third incident Mrs. Perch spoke of. As she glued her eyes to the page, reading, Mrs. Perch spoke again.
“That one tells of a married man who had an affair with a beautiful woman who was married to another man. The affair had gone on for several months before they were found out. The woman was found just inside the doorway of his bedroom suite, killed by strangulation. The man was eventually tracked down several states away. It was speculated that he had romanced and then scorned one of his own maidservants and that is who spread the word of the affair.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “Nevertheless, however it was found out, the man was charged with murder even though he claimed to have been in Boston the whole time. He spent three years in prison before the real culprit was found. The woman’s husband confessed as he was dying from pneumonia and finally the innocent man was freed. But I think his family had to sell the Queen Anne house while he was in prison, so he never returned to Sweetfern Harbor again. Tragic story, that one.”
Brenda nodded mutely, then pulled the second book toward her and found the chapter about the more recent history of the bed and breakfast she now owned. As Mrs. Perch had told her, the mansion went from being a hostel to a private home and back several times. The fourth incident was when it was operating as an inn, and it was another murder. This time it was a young housemaid in 1903, shot by the son of a prominent banker. As she reviewed the account, Brenda could read between the lines that there was more to the story.
The son, a guest at the establishment, claimed the young girl had tried to rob him, but the newspaper accounts at the time told another story. Several times they mentioned that her clothing had been in “a terrible disarray” or “ripped to tatters” and that her face and body bore suspicious bruises. Brenda could only imagine that the poor girl had been cornered, even assaulted, and perhaps killed when she would not comply with the demands of the entitled, rich young man leering at her. But of course, his family’s money brought with it excellent lawyers and privileges: the police believed his story about being robbed and he was never charged with a crime at all.
“Isn’t it enough to break your heart? Everyone knew the truth, but no one could prove it. They didn’t have fancy crime scene analysis back then. What’s worse is that she was the daughter of the chauffeur who worked for that banker’s family.”
“Is there still family of the young girl around here?” Brenda asked, heartbroken.
“There are descendants who still live here. Two of the men are chauffeurs to this day, in fact, so they must be following the family tradition.”
“I wonder if any of my staff are related to them.” Brenda vowed to ask Phyllis. She was a life-long resident of Sweetfern Harbor and surely knew more. “I’m almost afraid to ask about the fifth incident…”
Mrs. Perch smiled at her grimly. “The next one is a grisly one.” She reached over and flipped through the pages until she found the story. “This one was more recent, in the 1950s. By that time, your inn was unoccupied. Teenagers around here often sneaked off and climbed the fence that had been put up to keep trespassers out. They all went into the house. Well, there were two girls, best friends, maybe a little too adventurous and boy-crazy. They broke into the house with two boys who had promised to show them where the murders happened. The boys came out alive. The girls were found in pools of blood in the second-floor hallway.”
Brenda gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”
“The boys finally confessed.” She shook her head. “It was quite the scandal around here. I was a girl then and I still remember the reporters who came to town and swarmed the courthouse when the trial started. Apparently, the boys had made a pact with each other to lose their virginity after the homecoming dance, and became angry when the girls told them their parents had forbidden them to go to the dance. They lured them into the mansion for the last tour of their lives. The boys were brothers and – funny enough – I think they were sons of someone belonging to the chauffeur family line, so to speak.
This happened not long before Randolph bought the place and restored it as it is today.”
Brenda leaned back and took a deep breath. The sound of the ticking clock on the reading room mantle was the only thing that broke the silence until Brenda spoke.
“I had no idea there were so much tragedy surrounding the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast,” Brenda said. “It was bad enough when Ellen Teague was murdered there by her long-time assistant.” She looked at the librarian. “I do hope there aren’t any more horror stories.”
Mrs. Perch smiled and patted Brenda on her shoulder. “No, dear, as far as I know, that’s it. I hope this answers your questions.”
Brenda thanked her and told her she had learned much more than she expected to. “I think I will check out a good novel after all. I don’t want anything about crime though.” Brenda shuddered.
On her way to the car, she made up her mind that Allie’s idea could work out. As much as Sheffield House’s history troubled her, it was an important part of the town’s history. As she rounded the corner and saw the graceful lines of the bed and breakfast up ahead, she was reminded again of her uncle’s legacy and hoped she would make a decision that he would agree with.
Brenda was a little fatigued from her research, and so she decided to enter through the side door and take the back stairs to her apartment. She wasn’t prepared to run into inquisitive employees at the moment. The autumn wind whistled through the trees outside and had chilled her on the walk back, and a hot cup of tea was in order.
Brenda stirred the lemon verbena tea in her favorite mug and sat down in her easy chair. While waiting for the steam to recede she looked out onto the expanse of manicured lawn bordered by flower gardens and thought about her wedding. She and Mac had not set a date yet. It took time to plan a wedding, too. The bed and breakfast was doing fine, but her profits were limited by the number of guests they could bring in, and her savings were not robust, and anyway they were meant for emergency situations. The ghost tour could easily increase her funds, if she did it right.
Brenda heard several guests chatting together as they walked down the hallway outside her apartment. Thank God no more of them had fled in fear. She watched the ocean waves crashing on the rocks beyond the property’s edge as she sipped her tea, coming to a decision.
When she rinsed her cup and headed downstairs, Allie was in her small office at the computer and Phyllis dusted the bookshelves in the sitting room. She asked them both to come into the room and sit down with her. Allie’s eyes danced. Phyllis looked hopeful.
“I met with Mrs. Perch earlier and she directed me to two volumes of history of Sweetfern Harbor. Of course, it included this house.” She took a deep breath. “I found out things that I never discovered in the papers stored in the attic.” She proceeded to tell them about her findings.
“That’s something,” Allie said, her eyes wide. “We have a lot of stories to include in the tours.”
“If Brenda decides to do so,” Phyllis added. She had her eyes on her boss.
“I’ve decided the tours are a good idea. We will run them Halloween weekend, beginning Thursday and the last one on Saturday night.” Allie clapped her hands in excitement at the announcement, and Brenda smiled. “We’ll need candles with shields to catch any dripping wax, Allie, can you order those?” Allie nodded and took notes as Brenda gave a few more details.
“I suggest we use Ellen Teague’s story, the young wife’s unsolved murder, and the two young girls who were murdered in the hallway,” Phyllis said. Brenda agreed to consider those stories for inclusion.
Allie chimed in. “We can call the second floor ‘the haunted floor.’ We could also tell how the ill woman saw the ghost.” Brenda hoped Allie wouldn’t go overboard with all of this. Murders were one thing, but ghost sightings were different.
“The ghost stuff is simply to lure people in. We want them to be on edge and a little scared, but we all know that there are no apparitions floating around this bed and breakfast.”
Phyllis and Allie exchanged knowing glances. There was a silence.
“How do you explain what the McCormicks saw?” Allie finally asked in exasperation.
“I have no idea what scared them. I went up to their room after they left and walked around the whole place. Nothing was unusual and there certainly were no ghosts there.” Brenda turned to Phyllis. “Make sure you remind the housekeepers to lock the doors to the suite. That adjoining suite door was ajar on the McCormick’s side. I’m sure one of them was curious as to what was behind that door and left it open.”
The other two exchanged glances again. Brenda laughed at them. “All right,” she said, “go ahead and let your imaginations run wild. Maybe the tours will be spookier than I can make them because of it. As for now, I need a break from all of this. How about a walk down to Jenny’s Blossoms? She has beautiful mums in and I’d like to pick some out for our fall decorations.”
In short order, they were outside enjoying the crisp air. When they approached the flower shop, they gasped at Jenny’s window display. An artificial tree leaned slightly, showing off autumn colors. Beneath the tree were several pumpkins and more leaves strewn under them. Jenny had not forgotten to add a witch hovering in the far corner of the display. The figure held a red apple as if waiting for Snow White. When they entered, the shop filled with a variety of autumn flowers and decorations.
“Hello to three beautiful ladies,” Bryce Jones said. He stood by Jenny at the counter and turned to smile at them.
“Aren’t you supposed to be out on patrol or something?” Phyllis asked.
“Detectives have offices unless there is a crime. Until then I’ll be right there.” He winked at Jenny just before his cell phone rang. “Excuse me ladies, duty calls. I’ll have to take this call outside.” The women stepped aside.
Brenda and her employees picked out several bouquets and pots of mums. Jenny made a few suggestions and assured Brenda they would be delivered later that day.
“I have a great idea for your wedding, Brenda.”
“We haven’t even set the date yet.”
“That doesn’t matter. Knowing my dad, you’ll have to push him along on that matter. I think you should have a Christmas wedding.”
Phyllis and Allie loved this idea, and chimed in with ideas about a Christmas wedding fiesta theme. “It would be beautiful,” Phyllis said. “That’s only two months away. There’s a lot to do. I’ll take care of getting invitations out. Allie, you make sure to clear bookings that weekend for close friends or anyone Brenda wants to book at the bed and breakfast.”
Brenda laughed. “Wait a minute. I’ll have to talk with Mac first. He may not want a wedding in the middle of winter. Besides, we have to get through this Halloween event first.”
That statement was all it took for Allie to tell Jenny their plans for candlelight tours accompanied by ghostly tales of the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. Jenny clapped her hands happily. When they told her about its history of crime, she was even more animated.
“Everyone will be so excited about something like that,” she said. “Local history is a real draw around here. You’ll have to get the information to William Pendleton. He’s getting ready to print the brochures and flyers for that weekend.” She turned to Phyllis. “Your fiancé sure knows how to bring outsiders to Sweetfern Harbor. Every business in town has picked up since he started doing so much publicity.”
“He knows a lot of people in theatre and the arts. He knows just where to place advertisements, I guess. And his friends all love to come see this place.” Phyllis beamed. “Sweetfern Harbor is the perfect setting for people in his circles.”
On their way home they talked about the tour. “I forgot to tell you, Brenda, but two different guests have canceled their reservations for tomorrow night. That means if anyone calls we do have those rooms open. It’s just that one night though.”
“Where were they coming from? I hope not from the same town as the McCormicks.”
“No. O
ne couple is from Ohio and asked to rebook in April. The other was a businessman from New York City who told me his meetings were canceled and he didn’t need to come.”
“That’s a relief. I hope we can get the rooms filled.”
“Word will spread quickly about the candlelight tour,” Allie said. “I’m sure we will book them quickly.” As they returned to Sheffield House, Brenda sighed in relief that everyone seemed so positive about the new tours. She felt sure her plan would come together quickly and smoothly.
Chapter Three
Sounds in the Night
The next morning, Brenda came downstairs early. Several guests were eating breakfast and she joined them.
“Things are beginning to look a little eerie around here,” said one young guest with excitement. She looked at her husband. The newlyweds were on their honeymoon and had made Sweetfern Harbor their destination for two days. “I wish we could be here for the candlelight tours.”
“I’m sorry you will be moving on, too,” Brenda said. “You will have to come back again soon. We celebrate all the holidays with the same enthusiasm.”
Brenda enjoyed the company for a few minutes more and then excused herself. “I’m going to look around to see what else needs to be done.” She joined Allie and began stringing more decorations.
“I phoned William the details about the tour and he is already selling a lot of tickets,” Allie said. “I want you to look at a poster I made. I thought we could put it on an easel just inside the front door.”
Brenda never failed to marvel at the teenager’s creative ability. The poster displayed a painted scene of two dark, mysteriously hooded creatures in the foreground. Behind them was a four-story house much like the Sheffield, but in an eerie state of disrepair. Only one light glowed from the top floor window, a candle that almost appeared to flicker. Tree branches seemed to sway on either side of the creatures.
Ghostly Tours (Sweetfern Harbor Mystery Book 4) Page 2