by Roger Hayden
“Who are you?” Ben asked, speaking up first.
“Now, now,” the man said, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “Let's start with you first.”
Elizabeth watched as the men confiscated both the audio recorder and video camera, shoving them into bags.
“My name is Ben Stone, and these are my friends from the University of Cincinnati. We're…”
“You're trespassing,” the man said, cutting him off. “That's what you're doing.”
“We're investigating,” Ben said with defiance.
“Please, sir,” Elizabeth said, stepping forward. “I'm sure this is all one big misunderstanding.”
“I don't doubt it,” the man said, turning to her, inches from her face. She could smell the cigar smoke as it drifted down in a haze around them.
“Are you the police?” Elizabeth asked, confused and disoriented.
The cigar man paced from one end of the group to the other, puffing away. “You mentioned something about a misunderstanding,” he began. “So let me see if I got this right. You traveled from afar to break into a house clearly marked off-limits.” He paused, examining the confiscated video and audio equipment. “I suppose you came here to capture ghosts or something like that. Did you find anything?”
No one answered as the cigar man continued. “You've trespassed onto a historical site of great importance to our fair town. You've violated this space with your utter disregard for the sacred ground before you.”
“Sir, if I could…” Ben began.
“I'm not finished!” the man said, halting. He then resumed his pacing as silence fell over the frightened group. “I want IDs first. Then we'll get to the bottom of this.”
In unison, the men pointed their rifles at the group.
“You heard the man. Let's see those wallets!” another man shouted.
The group nervously dug into their pockets and pulled out their wallets, searching for their driver's licenses. The men rounded them up and handed them over to the cigar man, who flipped through them, clearly amused. “Cincinnati, eh? Well, you're a little ways from home.” He pocketed the licenses, perplexing the group further as he turned to them with a friendlier tone. “I'm Frederick Taylor, mayor of Redwood. My police department received a call about a disturbance at the old Bechdel estate. We don't take such offenses lightly, especially from folks looking to desecrate the home of one of Redwood's most cherished families.”
“That wasn't our intent, sir—” Ben tried to add.
“Quiet!” the mayor seethed, pivoting around. He paused, allowing for calm. “I especially don't like being pulled out of bed at this time of the evening, especially with a storm like this raging outside.” He looked at the group, seemingly ready to wrap things up, or so they hoped.
“We're incredibly sorry,” Elizabeth said. “This is a part of a project of ours. An investigative documentary.”
The mayor leaned closer to her with great interest. “Oh? You don't say! A school project?” Suddenly, one of his men tugged on the side of his coat, showing him the video camera. He then looked through the viewfinder with one eye as his face went from amusement to starkly serious.
“What is it?” Scott said abruptly. “What do you see?”
The mayor backed away from the camera slowly and handed it back to his man. He then scanned the room up and down with a new look of worry and dread on his face. “Gentlemen, it's about time we leave this place.” He backed toward the door, signaling to his men. “It's not safe here.”
“What about them?” one of the men asked, rifle pointed at the group.
The mayor stopped and thought to himself. “Well… do what needs to be done, Clayton. Take 'em out in the woods and finish it.”
The group could hardly believe their ears. “What did he say?” Scott asked, stepping forward, astonished. “What the hell did you just say?”
A blow to his head sent him crashing to the ground. Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream, but found herself too shocked to make a sound. Scott struggled slowly to his feet as Ben helped him up. Adam started to step forward, but Scott mouthed, “I’m OK.” Pointing their rifles, the men herded Adam, Ben, Scott, and Elizabeth into a tight circle.
Their legs moved forward as the men pushed them to the rear of the house, then out toward the backyard, with the barrels of rifles and shotguns against their backs.
They’re just trying to scare us, right? That's all. Just send us a message?
Elizabeth closed her eyes and searched for guidance from the spirits, anything that would let her know what to do and how to escape what seemed to be their awful fate.
Encounters
Mary woke the next morning with Julie’s diary resting on her lap. She had neared the end of it, surprised by the level of detail written in its small, faded pages. Julie had chronicled a troubling time for her family, leading up to their infamous murder. The fate of the Bechdels was a story of intrigue, suspicion, and increasing paranoia. The family had something of great value hidden in the house, and there were plenty of characters from town trying to get it.
Julie herself knew little about it, but she often spoke of a secret underground room somewhere in the house, well-hidden from rogue outsiders—a place where her parents stored a vast fortune dating back generations. Of course, as Julie stated in her diary, she had never seen the supposed room and was beginning to doubt its existence.
She wrote: “Travis told me again today about this treasure room, but when I asked him to show me where it was, he refused. I told him that I didn’t believe that it was even real, that it was just something he and John and Alex made up to mess with me. He said, ‘Suit yourself,’ and walked off. I don’t even know why I bother sometimes.
“Mother and Father haven’t let me out of the house for weeks. WEEKS! I’m a prisoner. They let me go in the backyard sometimes, but that’s about it. They pulled me from school, won’t let me see my friends, and worst of all, they forgot my birthday last week. Can you believe that? Who forgets their daughter’s birthday? Mother apologized the next day, over and over again, and said that they’ve been so busy, they missed it. She promised me a big birthday party, which hasn’t happened yet.
“I told her that it was okay and that turning eleven was no big deal. She was pretty nice to me the rest of the day, and I could tell she felt really bad. I just wish I had someone to talk to. Father says things will get better soon, right after the election. I don’t know why he had to run for mayor. The guy who is running against my dad is a real jerk. I think my parents are afraid of him.
“His name is Mr. Taylor, and he showed up here the other day to talk to my dad. Apparently, it didn’t go well and there was shouting and all sorts of threats. I don’t know what to think about it anymore. Just seems like there’s a black cloud over our house that won’t go away. I hope things get better. I really do.”
Mary took a deep breath, feeling the delicate texture of the signed passage, and turning to the next page. Though there were many pages torn and missing from the diary, Mary was able to piece together the fragmented history of a trying time for the Bechdels, as seen through the eyes of their young daughter.
Julie’s parting words projected a deep apprehension about the dinner party soon to come. She spoke of a rushed engagement between her oldest brother, Travis, and his high school sweetheart, Katelyn Drake. Julie vowed to uncover the secrecy surrounding her parents’ mysterious fortune, their interest in the Drake family, and her father’s decision to join the mayoral race. Through all of this, there had been several references to a Mr. Taylor, who had worked for her parents at one point years prior as a landscaper, but was let go for undisclosed reasons.
Mary considered these tidbits to be engrossing, but she was no closer to discovering the killers than before, though her main suspect, Mayor Taylor, was looking more likely by the day. She lowered the diary and looked around the room, hoping for any signs of Julie. Mary had yet to figure out what triggered the spirits to action, but nonetheless, she
always felt as though she was being watched.
She looked down, knowing that she was nearing the last of Julie’s entries. She wished there were more to draw from. She wished Julie would simply appear, spirit form and all, and explain to her what happened on that horrible evening of June 25, 1975.
Mary began reading: “During breakfast, Father yelled at Travis and sent him away after Travis expressed, for like the fifth time, doubts about getting married. I’d never seen Father so angry. Well, not in a while. My parents both seem stressed and on edge. This stupid mayor election is close, but it looks as if Father has a good chance.
“I heard my parents talking in the lounge the other evening. It sounded like they were arguing. Father revealed to Mother that Mr. Taylor tried to pay him to drop out of the race. Father refused the money, which I admired him for. Mother seemed upset, though. She said that the Taylors were bad people, and that Father was playing with fire. I don’t know. It’s all so ridiculous. Why can’t we be a normal family? Why are there so many secrets among us? Why did my parents forget my birthday? So many questions.
“Mother is running around this morning with the cooks and servers like a madwoman. So much is riding on this dinner party, she says. Why are they so concerned with impressing the Drakes? They’re people just like us, right? Travis told me that sometimes he feels like he’s being used. He really likes Katelyn. She’s beautiful, and they’ve been together for two years. But, it’s like, my parents want to join the families just so we can be even more rich and powerful, or something like that. And with this secret room, now I don’t know what to think.
“I can already hear everyone downstairs, running around. It’s going to be a long day. I just wish I had someone I could share all these thoughts with, all these worries. On a day of such celebration and so many people, I’ve never felt so alone. I’m going to find out what my parents are up to, and I’m going to find out about the Drakes, mark my words. Detective Julie is on the case.”
Mary stared at the last page as a single tear dropped from each of her eyes. She closed the diary, holding it close, and stepped out of bed, unsure where Curtis was. She was fairly certain that Julie’s room was close, though she hadn’t yet identified which room belonged to which sibling. She and Curtis were in the master bedroom, which she was certain once belonged to George and Anabelle Bechdel. The question was, which room had Julie slept in?
What room had she been forced to run into as her parents and their party guests were being massacred? From what window did she climb out, trying to escape, only to be found and executed without mercy? Anger rose in Mary’s gut as she pushed open her bedroom door and walked down the hall past a row of rooms to her right, many of them still empty. She could hear Curtis pacing around downstairs. His voice was upbeat and chipper.
“It’s in the earliest stages, but the doctor confirmed that she’s pregnant,” he said. “I know, isn’t it amazing?”
There was a pause as Mary crept forward, wondering who he was talking to.
“She’s sleeping right now, Mom, but I’ll be sure to have her call you once she’s up and ready.”
With her question answered, Mary stopped at the fourth room to her left and slowly pushed the door open. Inside, its floors were barren. Sunlight beamed in through a grand window, and within this space she could feel Julie’s presence.
This was her room, Mary thought, imagining it decorated with Julie’s things: her bed, toys, and books.
She stepped inside with her bare feet touching the ground. Her hair was down at her shoulders, and she was wearing a T-shirt and plaid pajama pants that she couldn’t remember changing into the night before. When did she fall asleep? Why hadn’t Curtis woken her?
Sunlight hit her face as she approached the window and stared outside into the courtyard below. Their Ford Expedition was parked next to the empty fountain and Theo’s Oldsmobile. She was relieved to see that Theo was still here. He seemed genuine and trustworthy enough, but Mary found herself worried each morning that he would be gone, and she couldn’t understand why. Perhaps because Theo was a loner and the case before them was already spiraling out of control. Just as Theo crossed her mind, his voice sounded behind her.
“Morning, Mary,” he said.
She whipped around, startled to see him leaning in the doorway. She said hello and asked if he had slept well.
He was already dressed for the day in his collared shirt, jeans, and beige jacket. His beard had grown thicker on his youthful face. He held onto his creased fedora, which he had been wearing less and less. Mary wondered if the hat was, overall, just part of his image as a paranormal investigator. Around her, it seemed, he could be more himself.
“Tossed and turned for a little bit,” he admitted. “Just couldn’t get this image of my mother out of my mind.”
“I understand,” Mary said, clutching the diary. She held it out for him to see. “Julie wrote about the Taylors in her diary.”
Theo’s eyes widened. “What did she say?”
“Apparently there were some real issues between the Bechdels and the Taylors. Julie’s mother warned her father not to ‘play with fire,’ as she put it.”
Theo shook his head in disbelief. “How is it possible that the authorities never made that connection? How is Mayor Taylor even on the street today?”
Mary turned back to the window, envisioning Julie’s frantic escape. She could feel the girl’s fear, desperation, and primal urge to survive. She placed a hand against the wall, balancing herself as she looked down, hair covering her face.
“You okay?” Theo asked, stepping forward.
“Yeah… I’m fine,” she answered, raising her head. “Some politicians think that they’re above the law, and in Mayor Taylor’s case, he clearly is.” She then stood up straight and turned around, conviction shining in her eyes. “But we’re going to change that.”
Theo and Mary later joined Curtis at the breakfast table, where he had bagels and coffee waiting for them. He was alert and energetic, and Mary could sense that his mind was in a hundred different places at once as he jumped from one point to another. “I want you to take it easy, Mary,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee mug. “Have Theo investigate for all I care. Things are different now.”
He looked off in another direction as Mary sat still across from him, feeling defensive. Theo wisely stayed out of it and picked at his blueberry bagel with a steaming cup of coffee at his elbow.
“Nothing changes, Curtis,” Mary said.
Curtis’s stern expression of concern remained unwavering. “We can’t take any chances this time.” He then turned to Theo. “Can’t you go out to Phil’s yourself? I’d prefer Mary to cut out some of this activity.”
Mary rose from her chair, pushing it out behind her. “I’m going, and that’s all there is to it.” Curtis started to say something, only to be cut off. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not sitting this one out and letting the Taylor family get away with murder.”
With little recourse available, Curtis backed down, only to offer a point of contention. “One day, Mary. One day of playing detective, and that’s it.” He cut the air with his hand as if delivering the final word. “We’d be better off getting out of this town completely, if you ask me.”
Mary had never heard him talk that way before. The mansion and the town had been a dream come true for Curtis and until now, he had not disparaged the idea. The situation, it seemed, was getting to him, especially since hearing about her pregnancy.
Surprising Mary, he set the mysterious glove recovered at Phil’s on the table, and next to the glove, he placed a Ziploc bag. He sealed the glove inside as they watched quietly. “I’m actually curious what Bob will say about all of this,” he said, switching gears.
Theo took a sip of coffee and cut in. “You’re not actually going to accuse him of murder right away, are you?”
Curtis scoffed. “I think my years practicing law might just afford me some tact in these matters.”
&nbs
p; Theo raised his hands apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Curtis waved him off with a laugh. “I know you didn’t. Now, can we please wrap this thing up today and be done with it?”
He rose from the table as Mary placed her hand on his arm, causing him to pause. She looked up at him with unease. “This is serious, Curtis. The Taylor family could come after us just like they did the Bechdels.”
Curtis moved his hands up and rubbed his temples. “Which is why we’re going to the police,” he responded.
“The same police who have let the Taylors rule over this town unchallenged?” Mary asked as Theo again kept to himself.
“Okay!” Curtis said, holding up the glove. “I’ll confront Bob and see what he knows.” Already sensing Mary’s concern, he added, “I’ll be careful.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Suddenly, her cell phone rang on the kitchen counter where it had been charging. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed her phone, looking at the screen. It was an unknown number, and she hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hello?” she said, softly.
“Mrs. Malone?” a man’s voice said.
She backed toward the sink, elbow resting on her other hand with the phone against her ear.
“Yes… this is she.”
“Yes, Mrs. Malone. This is Dr. Patel.”
She knew she recognized his voice and felt instant relief, though she didn’t pause to think of why he would be calling her first thing in the morning. “Yes, Dr. Patel. How can I help you?”
His first words, “I don’t want to alarm you,” did the exact opposite. Mary could already feel her heart rate increasing. He continued: “I was looking at some of your test results, and I’m a little concerned.” There was a slight pause as he continued. “Nothing major. I just think you should come by as soon as you can.”
Even as the warm morning sun radiated through the window above the sink, she felt light-headed, at a loss for words. “What is it, Doctor?”