Mind Your Manors

by CeeCee James

  What Kari said next didn’t help. “They are a strange bunch. I remember telling ghost stories about that house when I was a kid.” She picked off a piece of doughnut and shoved it in her mouth like she hadn’t just said the word “ghost.”

  I swallowed. “Are the Valentine’s dangerous? What did my uncle get me into?”

  Kari laughed. “No, nothing like that. They aren’t ax murderers.”

  “Did you just say ax murderers? You know we have a skeleton on our hands.”

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. It’s just that around here the brother is known as a prankster. Clear up until he turned sixty or so he was still pulling pranks.”

  Huh? Pranks seemed juvenile and along the lines of innocent. Pranks did not match up to his creepy eyes. “You mentioned that the first time we went there. After my discovery today, I’m thinking I need some more details.”

  “Oh, once he filled the memorial fountain with bubble solution. He painted a giant butt on the mayor’s posters. Juvenile stuff like that. He’d been caught so many times that no one really knew what to do. It did no good going to the sisters. They ignored every negative thing said about him.”

  “What finally made him stop?”

  “Well, the last time he was up on the neighbors roof. He fell off and broke his leg. That kept him quiet for a while.” Kari shrugged and pushed her short blonde hair behind her ear. “You just need to stay business-like. Gladys Valentine is the high-brow of the family. She doesn’t want anything to happen to tarnish the family name so you can imagine the hardship it’s been on her having Richard as her brother.”

  I thought of the stiff-spined woman whose face seemed creased permanently into a disapproving frown. “No joke. She scares me. She was infuriated when I called Uncle Chris about the skeleton.”

  Kari dunked her doughnut. “I’d say that’s about right.” She took a mouthful, then used her hand to shield her mouth. “But she thinks she’s all Miss Prim-and-Proper and lives by manners associated with a century ago.”

  “Except with the practical jokes.”

  Kari nodded. “Except those.”

  “So tell me the scoop. Those three siblings live together, but none of them got married?”

  Kari slowly shrugged. “There’s a rumor there was a fourth. A boy.”

  My jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me that’s the skeleton?”

  “I doubt it. I don’t even know if it’s true. I just heard rumors of a baby, but it was long before my time.”

  “A baby.” Pictures of a little ghost baby flew through my mind. “One that died?”

  She took a sip of coffee and set it down. “You know how town ghost stories go. I heard a rumor that the kid went off to be a roadie. Maybe he joined the circus. Maybe he wasn’t real at all. After the mom died, that family kind of fell apart so who knows. Like I said, lots of spooky stories surround that house.” She glanced at my doughnut. “You going to eat that?”

  I shook my head and pushed it over. I never liked cake doughnuts, so it wasn’t much of a sacrifice.

  “Any more stories I should know about?” I asked.

  She shrugged again. “I know one that used to haunt me when I was a kid was about the aunt. Apparently, she went crazy in that house. Used to talk about the Valentine sisters like they were ghosts.”

  My mouth dropped. “What?”

  Kari laughed and shook her head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I was just kidding. You should see your face. Honestly, it’s just a weird old house owned by an eccentric family. You know how people are. They always make up stuff about things they don’t understand. Relax. This will work out.”

  “Are we still going to sell it?”

  “Of course, we’re still going to sell it. This will all clear up and we’ll be back on schedule in a couple of days. You’ll see.”

  Chapter 6

  The rain had stopped by the time we were ready to leave. Kari had to go fill a prescription, and I thought I might as well pick up the package. This was as good of time as any to acquaint myself with my new town.

  Brookfield was cute, with fake old-time looking storefronts that kind of made me miss Pikes Place Market in Seattle. It had a mixture of old world charm like a place time forgot. I bet these buildings looked the same back when the Valentine sisters were girls.

  I wandered down the street, my hands jammed in my pockets trying to get rid of the chill I couldn’t seem to shake. Someone tapped me on the back. I turned around with a smile.

  There was no one there.

  I glanced around, confused. I know I felt something. I checked my shoulder and didn’t see anything.

  This wasn’t helping my spooky feeling go away. I swallowed hard. It was probably a raindrop.

  Biting my lip, I continued on. The post office was as quaint as the rest of the town, its brick front constructed to resembled an 1880’s government office. I stopped to admire the big emblem at the convex of the building and then opened the door.

  Immediately, I was hit with a blast of air-conditioning. Why they’d have this on, on such a drizzly day, I’d never know.

  There was already a woman at the counter being helped. I got into line behind her.

  The postmaster appeared to be somewhere in her late fifties. The pin on her blue sweater vest said Jan, with a golden eagle with outstretched wings encompassing her name.

  “That’s just terrible about your husband. Gout’s nothing to fool with. Now, what was the zip code again?” Jan asked the customer.

  The gal in front of me rattled off some numbers.

  The postmaster punched them in her machine. She had a quirky smile that matched her short dutch-boy haircut. “Okay, that’ll be twelve eighty. So did you hear about the Valentine place?”

  The woman dug through her purse on the counter. “Yeah. Can you believe it? Who’s going to want that place, now?”

  It was obvious the postmaster wasn’t in a hurry and was well-prepared to dish up a good slice of gossip by the way her eyebrows lowered as she leaned against the counter. “I don’t know, but I’m sure that realty’s going to squeeze every penny out of the sale. I heard O’Neil is courting some big developer.”

  “That realtor taking over all our house sales. They’re wrecking our town! Although, honestly, it’s probably best they tear that mausoleum down, anyway. Nothing good’s come from there.”

  “That’s true. But you might feel different when you see apartment buildings going up in its space.”

  The transaction dragged on while they discussed everything from the customer’s new grandbaby, the weather, to how the Cash and Carry grocery store was raising its prices on milk.

  Finally, it was my turn. I approached the counter with a big smile.

  “And how can I help you today?” Jan asked, resting her hands against the counter. Thin rubber covered the tips of three of her fingers.

  “Hello. I need to pick up a package.” I slid over the paper my uncle had given me.

  “You’re new in Brookfield, huh? I’m Jan. I’ve been at this post office for nearly thirty years.”

  I raised my eyebrows to appear impressed. “Wow! That’s amazing. You must really like it here.”

  “You name a place where I can have Skittles and my coffee breaks any time I want.” With that, she jabbed her thumb behind her where I caught a glimpse of an orange tabby cat. Presumably the Skittles that she was referring to.

  She continued, “Probably have a good ten years more before they kick me out of here. We’ll see. They made McGregor retire last year.” She sniffed as she walked to the back where metal shelves lined the walls. “He wasn’t yearning for that, and he sure didn’t like the nifty pen they gave him as a gift. They give me a pen and I’ll show them where they can stuff it.”

  I had no idea how to respond to that. I hoped a polite smile and a murmur of agreement would do the trick. I didn’t want to think about what I was agreeing to.

  Jan lifted the paper to find the name. Her lips silently moved as s
he read the address and her body stiffened. I could practically hear the “Oh, crap,” going through her head as she realized what she’d just said about my uncle.

  Her eyes cut over to me as if she were trying to calculate just how much I’d heard. I smiled—what did I have to lose? She obviously knew the town. Might be good to see what else she’d share.

  “Ms. O’Neil,” she said, bringing the package up to the front. She placed it on the counter with a thump.

  “Thanks,” I said, turning the package a little to read the return address. It was heavy. Seattle. Of course. It must be from my dad. I could only imagine what was inside. I gave an indignant sniff that I could take care of myself, but deep down I was hoping there was a check inside as well.

  “I see you’re an O’Neil?” She drawled out the last name, her eyes dropping to the label as if having to reassure herself that she’d read it correctly.

  “Yep. That’s me.” I didn’t offer more to see what she’d say.

  “So, you work for the Flamingo Realty, huh?” the postmaster asked, cautiously probing.

  “Yep. Just got hired.” Okay, time to pump for some information. Maybe if I gave her a little, she’d open up. “He’s my uncle. I heard you talking about the Valentine house a minute ago. I’m helping out with the sale.”

  She blanched and I thought she was going to excuse herself. Then she rallied on, “Oh, do you have a buyer for it?”

  “No. We’re actually getting it ready for an open house.”

  “Open house! Huh. That sounds fancy. I bet that’s keeping you busy.” She hesitated for a second and then said. “How are you getting along with the Valentines?”

  I really had to be careful how I answered this. What if she was friends with them? She’d seemed to defend them a bit with the last customer. “I don’t really know them. Charity seems very nice. Are you friends with the family?”

  She shook her head, making her gray hair swing slightly. “Those sisters are a good fifteen years older than me. Closer to my mom’s age really. My mom’s cousin had a debutante ball with them.”

  “Really?” Give me the scoop. Come on.

  “That was quite a long time ago. Back near the Korean War. So many of the men were leaving.”

  “Did Richard leave?”

  “Oh, Richard. You met him, huh? Of course, you have. You be careful with that one. Honest, it’s amazing he’s still alive.”

  “Why is it amazing?” I asked.

  “He isn’t exactly well liked around here. I’m surprised he didn’t meet with some accident.” She used her fingers to make invisible quotation marks. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  I nodded, understanding the reasons why he wasn’t well-liked. But that people might wish him bodily harm did surprise me.

  My phone vibrated then. I pulled it out to see a text from my uncle. —Need you to stop by sometime today.

  I slid it away. “Have you ever heard about a fourth child in the family? A boy maybe?”

  “No, I never have. The family’s had only three kids that I heard of. But you never know with all the gossip. Although those three keep us yapping enough.”

  “Do you know anyone who might have heard the story of a fourth?”

  Jan gave me a suspicious look, so I hurriedly added, “With selling the house, it’s important we know who all the heirs are.”

  That seemed to satisfy her because she nodded. “You can check with my cousin, Sharon. She works at A Cut Above. Don’t let Marcy cut your hair though. She’ll butcher it.”

  Considering Jan’s old-fashioned style, I figured Marcy must really be bad. “All right. That sounds great. Now, is there anything else I should know? I kind of feel like I’m walking into the lion’s den.”

  She laughed. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  What did she mean by that?

  The bell rang over the door and Jan glanced up. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Everly! What can I do for you today?”

  It was obvious she wasn’t going to say anything more. I waved goodbye and grabbed up my box and left.

  Chapter 7

  Once on the street, I glanced down the block. I thought I’d passed a salon on the way here, one with a giant pair of pink fluorescent scissors blinking off and on in the window. I touched the tips of my hair. They were getting kind of crispy. Might be a good time to see if they take walk-ins. Ah, there it was. I left the package in my car and then headed over.

  On the front window, a hand-painted sign in calligraphy said A Cut Above.

  I entered, setting off a bell.

  Sitting at the desk, a young woman with long black silky hair smiled as I walked in. “Good morning. Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, I was just passing by and wanted to see if you had an opening.”

  The salon had six chairs, three on either side of the room. Sinks were located at the back. The whole place smelled of shampoo, with undertones of something chemical.

  “What are you looking for?” She wrinkled her nose, just a tiny bit, as if she couldn’t believe the state of my hair and she wasn’t sure they were up for the challenge.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking a trim.”

  She glanced at the ledger in front of her. “It seems we do. Marcy?” she called over her shoulder.

  I gulped. The one lady Jan told me not to use.

  A red-haired woman popped out from behind a door of a room located at the back of the room. She wiped her mouth from whatever she’d been eating and gave me a once-over.

  I shot out sweat like a porcupine does quills. “Actually, someone recommended I see Sharon?” I smiled apologetically.

  “Sharon?” The receptionist look up doubtfully.

  “Yeah. I was at the post office, and Jan told me to stop by.”

  “Sharon!” screeched the receptionist. “Someone asking for you! You have time for a haircut?”

  “Just a trim,” I added. It had taken me a long time to grow my hair past my shoulders. Eons, it felt like, ever since a near scalping I’d given myself in my senior year. Every time I grew it to my shoulders, it needed another good whack to get it healthy again.

  An older woman appeared from the back room, her gray curls styled in a bouffant. She wore all black with a colorful plastic apron. “Sure!” Sharon said, waving to me. “Come on back.”

  She had me in the black plastic cape and my hair in the sink to shampoo my hair. “So, how do you know Jan?” she asked.

  Water bubbled around my ears. “Just met her,” I answered.

  I could tell she was still talking, but I couldn’t make out a word. I weakly smiled and closed my eyes, hoping she’d understand.

  After a second, she sat me up and patted my hair with a towel. “Right this way,” she said, her voice reminding me of the grandma on the pancake syrup commercial.

  Soon, she had me in her chair where I was confronted with the reflection of a washed out version of myself looking like a drowned rat in the mirror, every blotch illuminated by the fluorescent lights.

  “Just a trim, hun?” she confirmed.

  I nodded, and she went to work, parting my hair with her comb and flashing her scissors as she snipped. The beautician next to us had a victim in her chair, looking equally as miserable as myself, with foil in her hair.

  “Well, I learned some interesting gossip,” Sharon said to the other stylist.

  “Oh yeah? Girl, after last night at the Drunken Cow, I could use it. What’s going on?”

  “You’re getting too old to be doing that,” Sharon clucked her tongue in disapproval.

  “Hey, I’ve gotta have my fun!” the other woman laughed.

  Sharon measured my hair in front. She did not look happy.

  Sighing, she went back to whisking her comb through and snipping with lightning speed. “It’s Susie. You know her?”

  I watched in the mirror as the other hairdresser nodded.

  “Sure do. That girl’s got a mouth on her. Knows everything about everyone.”


  “You know the one. Well, she was saying she heard that house up on Bright Hill had the cops called.”

  “That Valentine one?”

  “You got it.”

  I felt like ducking my head. It was weird hearing them discuss it right over me.

  “And get this. There was a dead body found in it.” Sharon raised her eyebrows knowingly. She knew she’d just dropped a bombshell.

  “No!” gasped the other hairdresser. “You think it’s one of their family?”

  “I don’t know. It could be that kid that stayed at the Valentines for a few months. He was my dad’s good friend. His name was Kyle, and both him, my dad, and Richard used to be the town devils, I swear. Last that my dad heard of him, Kyle had shipped off to Korea with Richard.”

  “Oh, my gosh! Did he die?”

  “I don’t think anyone knows.”

  “Well, honey, who would voluntarily live with them? I once saw Richard shoot that light-up sign out on State road.”

  “That was him?”

  “Yep.” The other beautician blushed. “He said it was night pollution. I never told no one though. He caught me watching him and put his fingers to his mouth to tell me to shush. Honestly, I was too scared to say anything after that.”

  “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t either.

  The comb went through my hair hard, causing my head to jerk.

  “Oh, sorry about that, hun,” Sharon said to me. She spun me in the chair and brought out the hair dryer and roll brush. Quickly, she dried it and then turned me back. “How’s that?” She lowered her face until it was next to mine, and beamed at me in the mirror.

  I took in a deep breath and tried not to make a face. It was short, a lot shorter than I expected, with some weird layers.

  “So much better!” she exclaimed.