Blackvine Manor Mystery

by Wendy Meadows

  “How could you possibly know that?” A. J. skirts around her and goes to sit at the kitchen table.

  “The same way Mom knew Delia was in trouble. I saw it. Spirits, ghosts, whatever, I see them the way Mom did.” Alexis leans on the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. Alexis, is this some kind of break down? I know the lay off was rough but you’ll recover.” He leans back in his chair, rubbing his forehead.

  “Stop lying to me!”

  He looks at her with pleading eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Your mother kept secrets from me, but I loved her.”

  “And you came when she called for help.” Alexis tries to steady herself.

  A. J. covers his eyes with his hand, rubbing wearily. “She was being threatened, so of course I went to pick her up.”

  “Where was I during all of this?”

  “You stayed at a friend’s house. Amy? I think her name was Amy.”

  Alexis slides into a chair across the table from her father. “Why didn’t Mom come home?”

  “This isn’t healthy, Alexis. It’s all in the past. Your mother made her choice and left. Didn’t we do okay on our own?” He reaches for her hand.

  She can’t help but pull away. “Keeping all of this from me is not okay.”

  Her father doesn’t say anything so Alexis gets up and roams around the kitchen, trying to remember what her mother was like. She remembers Amelia always singing while she was cooking, using the big wooden spoon as her microphone.

  Alexis reaches up and pulls a tattered looking cookbook from the shelf next to the refrigerator. She recalls her mother letting her drum on it with the measuring spoons while she sang. As she holds the book in both hands, there is a flash of blue light. Her mother is sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen sink, head on her knees. Moonlight comes through the old striped curtains. Amelia holds her breath, hoping her daughter doesn’t hear her, then lets out one last jagged sob.

  Coming to stand at the counter, A. J. sees his daughter staring down at the floor in front of the sink. “Your mother wasn’t well. She used to come out here and cry. She didn’t want to wake you.”

  “What was wrong with her?”

  He groans. “I don’t know. She saw things that weren’t there, heard things that weren’t possible: she was mentally ill.”

  “She couldn’t control her abilities,” Alexis says, mostly to herself.

  “She needed help,” A. J. tells her gruffly, “instead she chose to run away and hide out at that horrid apartment building.”

  Ignoring her father’s derision, Alexis asks, “What happened to Amelia at Blackvine Manor?”

  He snorts. “All her talk of visions came back to bite her. She saw something she wasn’t supposed to see. That nice woman, a friend of your mother’s, was murdered. Turns out she was the police chief’s wife and he didn’t think your mother was a reliable witness. He threatened her and the threats got worse. Your mother was worried we were in danger, that he’d use us as leverage. So she left.”

  “You helped her leave.”

  A. J. scrubs his hands over his face again. “I helped her leave. Alexis, it was for the best.”

  Alexis clenches her jaw. “Where did you take her?”

  “I drove her right to her friend’s house and dropped her off. She didn’t even stay there one night. She wanted to make sure we knew nothing.”

  “What was her friend’s name?”

  “I don’t remember,” A. J. says defiantly. “It was a long time ago and if I did remember I wouldn’t tell you. This isn’t healthy, Alexis. Let it go. Your mother is gone and you have a good life. All you need is a new job and you can get your feet under you again.”

  She squeezes her eyes then pops them open. “Do you still have Mom’s pearl? The single pearl pendant?”

  “The one you told me to throw away?” A. J. looks at his daughter’s tear-bright eyes. “It’s upstairs in your room. A little blue box on your old chest of drawers.”

  Alexis heads upstairs and finds the pearl easily. She slips it on the chain alongside her black onyx crystal and grips the charms in her hand. Breathing deeply, she stretches her hands out and creates a circle, hoping this time the spirits will communicate with her.

  “Please, please, tell me the name.”

  She tries not to hold her breath, wishing she could hear the whispers like those that came to her at Blackvine Manor.

  “Apple Berry Cart.”

  Alexis opens her eyes, certain she heard the voice correctly. Thanking the powers that be profusely, she closes the circle, and puts on her necklace. Her mother’s pearl feels warm next to the cool of the black onyx. Hoping she is not going crazy, she goes to the bookshelf, tipping her head and running her finger along the book spines until she finds the old favorite.

  Amelia used to read her the alphabet book every night before singing her to sleep. Opening the familiar book a photograph slips out. Amelia arm in arm with an old friend, and in her handwriting on the back Alexis reads “Jane Dalton.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “HELLO? IS THIS JANE DALTON?”

  The voice on the other end is smooth and pleasant. “Yes, this is she.”

  Alexis pauses, not knowing what to say, before diving in. “My name is Alexis Cole, I think you knew my mother. Her name was … is Amelia Tennon.”

  There is a short silence followed by a sigh. “Of course. Alexis, how are you?”

  Taken aback by the sudden understanding and warmth, Alexis stammers, “I, I’m not sure. I have some questions about my mother.”

  “There isn’t much I can tell you. Your mother kept it that way on purpose.”

  “Anything would help.”

  Jane Dalton takes a deep breath and says what she’s been practicing for years. “Your mother was dropped off at my house late one night by your father. She wouldn’t even stay over night; all she wanted was a ride. All I can tell you is the corner where I dropped her. I’m sorry, Alexis.”

  Her heart beating fast, she is quick to say, “No, it’s alright. I understand. Anything would help, really. I appreciate it.”

  “She was my best friend. If you ever want to get together I would love it. I really would, Alexis.”

  “Thanks, ah, Miss Dalton?”

  There is a sweet chuckle. “Please, call me Jane and call me again soon. Now, go ahead and look up the corner of Charleston and Fairdale. Way out in the suburbs near Ridgedale. I don’t know what’s near there but your mother assured me she would be safe and there was a place there she could stay.”

  Alexis promises to call again soon, hanging up quickly and immediately entering the address in her phone. There is nothing near the street corner and she has to zoom out three times before a few landmarks show up on the map. A distribution center for the U. S. Postal Service, a truck stop gas station, and St. James Care Facility.

  She’s running out the door with her keys when Maxwell arrives home. “Where are you off to?”

  “Errands,” Alexis tries to call out casually. “How about I pick up a pizza for tonight?”

  He kisses her as she slides past. “Sounds good to me. Sure you can’t stay?”

  She blows him a kiss and pushes through the door to the stairwell, unable to wait for the elevator.

  It takes 40 minutes to drive out to the corner of Charleston and Fairdale and Alexis spends the entire time hoping her mother did not walk to the truck stop and hitch a ride. Fingers crossed she drives first to St. James Care Facility, wondering what kind of care it provides. The sign doesn’t help at all, so she parks her car and marches up to the front steps hoping there will be more clues in the foyer.

  Inside she is relieved to see a pamphlet and quickly grabs it before heading over to a sofa, hoping not to draw attention. The literature tells her St. James provides lifelong care for those with mental challenges.

  “A mental institution?” Alexis doesn’t realize she’s whispered her question aloud
until she sees the receptionist’s frown.

  The neat, brown-haired woman has come over to inquire about Alexis’ business and starts by answering, “We like our families to think of this more as a home.”

  “I’m sorry, yes, of course.”

  The woman narrows her eyes slightly. “Can I help you?”

  Alexis grasps for a likely story but can’t think of anything. Gulping, she tries, “I’ve come to visit Amelia Tennon.”

  The receptionist stiffens and, turning quickly on her heel, rushes to the desk to make a phone call. Alexis is about to flee when a tall male nurse strides into the foyer, apologizing to her.

  “I’m so sorry. You must be Alexis.” He reaches out, shaking her hand as he helps her to her feet.

  “How did you know? Wait, why are you apologizing?”

  The nurse stops, keeping her hand. “We didn’t call you?”

  The receptionist clears her throat. “The number she listed was a fake.”

  He shakes his head. “I should have checked when Amelia changed her contact information. She likes to make us work hard.”

  “My mother is here? I mean, can I see my mother? Please?”

  “Come with me, dear. By the way, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Ted Diaz. I’m a registered nurse here at St. James.” He leads her through the secure doors and down a short hallway to his office.

  “And you know my mother.”

  He sits her down on a gray sofa and takes the chair across from her, looking in her eyes intently. “You didn’t know she was a patient here until now?”

  Alexis confesses, “No. But I’m listed as her contact? And you tried to call me today?”

  Ted bites his lip. “Why don’t we start at the beginning? You were what, ten or eleven when your mother came here?”

  “She disappeared.” Alexis corrects him.

  “Your mother came to us for help. She saw and heard things she could not explain. She was very ill for a long time but she liked it here. She responded well to her therapy.”

  Alexis gulps back a sick feeling. “What kind of therapy?”

  Ted smiles. “She was a voluntary patient. No drugs, your mother refused them. Just group therapy. She felt safe here, and once she opened up things got better.”

  He leans back in his chair and considers Alexis before admitting, “And when I realized your mother was actually clairvoyant, we found ways to help her control her abilities and ways for her to use them to help others heal.”

  The tightness in her chest suddenly loosens and Alexis exhales. “You believed her. Thank God.”

  Ted leans across the narrow coffee table and catches her hand. “Your mother became my friend. That’s why this is so hard.”

  Alexis grips his hand, tears in both their eyes. “What happened?”

  “She ran away the other night. I’m sorry, Alexis, she’s gone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE FOUNTAIN IS A SOOTHING, soft fall of water lulling her thoughts as Alexis sits in the St. James garden. Nurse Diaz quietly joins her and hands her a cup of tea.

  “The police won’t start looking for her yet. She was a voluntary patient and she’s only been gone 24 hours so there is nothing they can do.”

  Alexis sips the tea and says nothing.

  “You’re in shock.”

  “No, no.” She’s not sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. “Its just I feel like I should know where she’s gone.”

  He pats her knee. “Well, stay here as long as you’d like. I’ve got rounds but here’s my card. Call me, please.”

  Alexis tucks his card into her back pocket and absently reaches for her necklace. As her fingers close around her mother’s pearl pendant the garden changes. The path is gone: the lawn rougher, and the scattered lawn chairs are the distinct neon color of her childhood summers.

  She sees Nurse Diaz, younger and with darker hair, walk past and smile. Looking down she sees her own photograph in Amelia’s hands, Amelia’s filigree wedding ring on her finger.

  “I don’t care where you are, Mom, as long as you’re still alive.” When Alexis releases the pearl pendant, the garden vision evaporates and she gets up from the bench.

  Back in the car she calls George and is just about to leave a voicemail when he picks up. “Hey, I came by Blackvine Manor the other day but you weren’t home.”

  “Alexis, are you okay? How are you?”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. Got a quick question for you: what do you call it when a psychic can hold an object and see visions?”

  George chuckles. “What is this, an ESP pop quiz?”

  “Exactly. Don’t fail me now.” She gives a tired smile as she pulls out of the St. James parking lot and heads home.

  “Psychometry.”

  “Thanks, Georgie, I’ll see you soon.”

  “Hey, wait; is there something you want to tell me?”

  Alexis smiles again. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  Turn on the oven! I’m home.” Alexis calls down the loft hallway.

  Maxwell jumps up from the leather couch and kisses her cheek. “Take and bake pizza? You really know how to spoil a guy.”

  Alexis kisses him back. “And red wine.”

  He gives her a melting smile. “Sounds perfect. And what should we do until the pizza’s ready?”

  She feels her cheeks heat up but slips past him and lies. “First I have to check my email. I promised my dad I would follow up on some job stuff.”

  “Job stuff?”

  “Yeah, tell you about it over pizza.” Alexis blows him a kiss, heading into the guest bedroom.

  “Psychometry: the ability to learn facts about a person or event from touching an object associated with them.” Alexis reads from her mother’s earmarked book on extrasensory abilities.

  There are no notes in the margins from Amelia except a small scribble that reads: Can messages be left in objects for others to find?

  Alexis touches the pearl pendant again. “Mom, did you leave me a message?”

  She jumps two feet off the bed when the smoke detector goes off and Maxwell calls down the hall. “Nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine. Pizza’s ready!”

  Laughing despite her failed attempt, Alexis goes to join him on the leather couch. He hands her a glass of wine in exchange for another kiss and goes to cut the slightly crispy pizza.

  “So, tell me about the ‘job stuff’.”

  “Boring,” Alexis tries to be flippant. “Have you ever heard of psychometry?”

  Maxwell gives her a wary look, delivering two plates of pizza to the coffee table. “No. Sounds like something television psychics do to con money out of large audiences.”

  “Something like that.” Alexis decides to take a big bite of pizza to hide the hurt.

  He sips his wine and sighs. “Tell me about it.”

  “It’s when someone is able to touch objects and learn about the object’s owner or an event that happened around the object.”

  “And has this happened to you?” he asks stiffly, not wanting to give up the peace of the last few days.

  Alexis hesitates, not wanting to feel the friction of his skepticism. “I’m not sure.”

  Maxwell chews his pizza for a minute before tossing the rest down on the plate and turning towards her. “You really miss your … ah … abilities. Don’t you?”

  “Yes. I know you didn’t believe me, but I was able to see and hear things others didn’t. I helped Delia; she wanted to be found. It felt right.”

  “Well, test it out.”

  “What?”

  Maxwell sips his wine and tosses a woolen throw blanket onto her lap. “Test it out. Tell me what you get from that blanket. And it better be more specific than some con from the street could come up with.”

  “I’ve told you before, it doesn’t work that way. I can’t just turn it on.”

  “I thought that was what you worked with the psychic on, isn’t it?”

  Alexis feels her cheeks flaring. H
is skepticism is irritating but his condescending tests make her burn. She puts down her wine glass and grabs the throw blanket with two hands.

  “I see a cabin by a lake.” She shuts her eyes to ignore his cocked eyebrow stare. “There’s a pontoon boat with yellow buoys tied on the side. Somebody’s left croquet mallets all over the lawn. You got in trouble and had to sit inside for fifteen minutes before joining your family at the fire for s’mores.”

  Maxwell blinks at her, his wine glass frozen halfway to his mouth.

  “Say something, please.” Alexis gropes for his hand.

  His hand is cold. “You couldn’t have known that.”

  “Exactly. I’m not crazy. And this just started happening. Maybe my abilities are coming back!”

  Alexis’ excitement drops and she squeezes his hand too tight.

  “What? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

  “This was Otto’s blanket?”

  Maxwell whispers, “Yes.”

  “He’s here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  OTTO IS YOUNGER, THE MAN he was before anything bad happened between him and Delia. He smiles and straightens the collar of his police uniform.

  Maxwell shifts uncomfortably and Alexis hesitates to tell him anything.

  “Tell him to ignore everyone at the academy. It’s not a popularity contest; he’s got to learn what they have to teach and that’s it.”

  Alexis says softly, “Otto wants you to study at the academy and ignore everything else.”

  “Anyone could tell me that and it would sound like the truth.” Maxwell lets go of her hand and gets up to get another slice of pizza.

  He stands leaning against the kitchen counter as he eats it and Alexis watches Otto fade. “I didn’t say it to upset you.”

  He chews for a minute before saying, “I know. How about we go back to being normal? Is it so bad to want to eat a little pizza, drink some wine, and hang out with just you?”

  “No, not at all.” Alexis forces herself to smile, ignoring the slice across her heart his use of the word ‘normal’ caused.