The Haunting of Quenby Mansion Omnibus: A Haunted House Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  Thomas studied Evelyn. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

  “Would you hate me if I said I’m Maxwell Quenby’s daughter?” Evelyn asked.

  “No, but I know some would.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Those rumors from all those years ago, a lot them were directed at Maxwell. A lot of people hated him.” Thomas replied.

  “How did they know it was him?”

  “How could they know he wasn’t, and now the bones in his basement are confirmation.” Thomas checked his watch. “If you’ll excuse me? Practice starts soon.”

  In the parking lot, Evelyn asked Terrence if he could get in contact with his friends--the band he agreed to build a guitar for during their first week in Adders.

  Terrence shrugged. “They won’t be happy that I never finished their custom guitar.”

  “Tell them that your wife has been driving you crazy,” Evelyn replied.

  Terrence cracked a small smile.

  That’s what I wanted to see.

  Evelyn put her hands in her pockets. “I can drop you off at their place and swing around the hospital to talk to Mary’s doctor.”

  “I don’t have access to a phone,” Terrence replied. “Mine is still fried.”

  Evelyn handed her cell to Terrence. “Use mine to call them, then text with theirs when you’re done.”

  After a moment of thought, Terrence agreed. “Alright. You sure you’re okay being on your own?”

  Evelyn patted her concealed extendable baton. “I think I can manage.”

  Terrence dialed the number. “Hey, it’s me. Sorry I haven’t got back to you… Yeah, my wife has me running around church and piano practice.”

  When the call was finished, Evelyn took him to the small ranch home where the band practiced. The members, wearing skinny jeans, cowboy boots, and cowboy hats were sitting on the porch, drinking cheap beer. Terrence said goodbye and got out of the car, his smile returning. Things would be better this way. Spending some time with the guys would calm Terrence down, and Evelyn wouldn’t feel the guilt of her unrelenting stubbornness.

  She drove to the hospital, missing the noises of Detroit. In the city, no one would care how her father was or wasn’t. She’d be judged by her merits and work ethic as she climbed the ladder. Not that all small towns were bad, but Evelyn’s experience in Adders hadn’t been pleasant. Now, the best of both worlds would be to live off the land with only her and nature for miles. No people. No BS.

  Evelyn walked through the hospital’s mechanical doors and asked to speak briefly with Dr. Waxen. He was in another appointment, so Evelyn took a seat. She waited for a solid hour before Waxen approached her. He was a tall man with hollow cheeks, blue eyes so light they were almost silver, and thin white hair. His smile was small, secretive in a way, and his glasses were circular with a gold rim.

  “Mrs. Carr, I expect the blackouts subsided?”

  “Yeah.” No thanks to your medication. “I never knew you were a children’s doctor.”

  Waxen looked at her. “In Adders, we tend to fill many roles. What’s the nature of your visit?”

  “You had an appointment with Bella Day a few days ago. Now that she’s missing…”

  “Doctor-patient confidentiality keeps me for disclosing any information about Day.”

  “I know,” Evelyn said, slightly peeved. “I’m concerned with her attitude. Was she scared? Nervous?”

  “All children are,” the skeletal doctor said coldly. Evelyn wasn’t surprised when the doctor looked like death incarnate.

  “More so than usual?” Evelyn clarified.

  Waxen studied her for a moment, his hands folded behind his back. “If anything, Bella was in high spirits.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe she got a new doll,” Waxen replied.

  Evelyn couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or serious.

  “Anything else you can tell me?”

  Waxen shook his head. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

  Evelyn got up to leave.

  “Wait,” Waxen said. He walked close to her. So close she could smell his breath that reeked of onions. He whispered. “They say bones were found in the basement of Quenby House.”

  “Yeah,” Evelyn replied and glanced over to the desk worker up front. The worker was texting, not remotely aware of what was happening.

  Waxen looked at Evelyn with acute facilitation. “They say when you found the bones, you organized them into categories. Heads in one. Femurs in another. I find that curious.”

  “I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Evelyn tried to take a step back. Waxen subtly blocked her off.

  “Do you know where Bella Day is?” Waxen asked, his intense eyes looking into her with unwanted intimacy. His skinny lips twitched into a grin. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. I won’t tell.”

  Evelyn pushed him away. “Get away from me.” She headed for the door, trying to cause as little a scene as possible.

  She got into the minivan, feeling her racing heart. With lips slightly parted, she turned back to the hospital, waiting to see if Dr. Waxen would follow. He didn’t. Evelyn drove on, trying to make sense of the interaction and feeling a growing pit of dread in her stomach.

  On her way to pick up Terrence, she dialed Bella’s babysitter. “Hi, this is Kimmy.”

  “Hey, Kimmy. This is Investigator Evelyn Carr,” Evelyn said, halting at a stop sign. “I want to talk to you about Bella Day.”

  “Have you learned anything?” the babysitter asked with concern.

  “Not much, frankly. I want to ask you about her. Do you have the time?”

  “Umm. I’m heading over to my dad’s office. We could meet there.”

  “Okay. Where does he work?”

  “Town Hall. He’s the mayor.”

  Terrence and the band strummed guitars on the porch steps and didn’t stop when they saw Evelyn pull into the driveway. With Band-Aid-free fingertips, Terrence played on, nearly losing himself in the twangy blues.

  Evelyn watched him. An unintentional grin curled on her face as he looked her in the eyes and picked away. When the song came to a close, he strummed one final time and then handed it back to one of the band members, a shaggy-haired man with a hide-colored cowboy hat.

  “Ready?” Evelyn asked guiltily.

  “Yeah.”

  Terrence said goodbye to the boys and got into the driver’s seat of the minivan.

  “Did you have fun?” Evelyn asked.

  “I did,” Terrence replied. “It made me realize…”

  “What?”

  “How far we’ve come,” Terrence replied. “I’ve learned some things.”

  “What’s that?”

  Terrence looked at her intensely. “The last time someone pieced together the slew of missing persons, there was a witch hunt. He said that there was vandalism, death threats, and more.”

  “Then we need to find this girl,” Evelyn replied.

  “I don’t think you understand,” Terrence explained. “The boys told me that you need to stay out of it.”

  “Because of my father?”

  Terrence struggled to find the next words. “Because they might suspect you.”

  Evelyn scoffed.

  Terrence put his hand on her thigh. “I’m serious. When the cops get desperate, who are they going to point at? Us. The curious strangers who happened upon five skeletons in their basement, and who’ve taken an acute interest in a missing girl. Heck, more has happened to us in two and a half weeks than they’ve seen in decades.”

  Evelyn played with the possibility. Terrence might be right, but she couldn’t dwell on it now. She needed to meet with Kimmy.

  Evelyn and Terrence headed to the downtown area. It was made of historical brick buildings, mom-and-pop shops, a general store, and more trademarks of a Southern town. The town hall was an old colonial building with a tall flight of stairs, four pillars, and a long rectangular frame. Below its peaked roof, a massive clock ticked away the
day. A few pedestrians strolled by. One was walking a dog, another pushing a stroller. They stared at Evelyn and Terrence. Somehow the air became much colder.

  Evelyn hiked up the steps and entered into the foyer. It was clean and simple, like most interiors in Adders. Old 1920s and 1930s photos were in frameless glass on the walls, showing off the town of Adders after electricity was established. A receptionist, a crone with a heavy frown, flashy beetle broach, and a tucked-in neck scarf glared at Evelyn with judgmental eyes.

  “Evelyn?” A voice said behind her.

  Evelyn twisted back to Kimmy Timberland, twenty-four, a tall and slender cutie with a purple headband, a rich chocolate ponytail, and dark mascara. She wore a white blouse and lady’s business skirt. “I look more like a lawyer than a babysitter, I know,” Kimmy said. “Babysitting has been a habit since high school, honestly.”

  “Was Bella a good kid?” Evelyn asked.

  Kimmy smiled shyly. “Yeah. You want to talk in a different room?”

  Evelyn and Terrence traded looks and shrugged. Evelyn surrendered her cell phone and baton. They moved into an empty conference room.

  “I help fill in as my father’s secretary while the others are away.” Kimmy shut the blinds and turned back to Evelyn with worry. “This Bella thing scares the crap out of me.”

  Evelyn went over the basic questions and got the usual results.

  Kimmy thought for a long moment, “Bella is typically untrusting of strangers. I took her to a store once and she wouldn’t even look at the cashier.”

  “So you think someone close took her?” Evelyn asked.

  “You would know better than me,” Kimmy replied. “But if there’s no sign of a struggle, it's the only thing that would make sense. Bella was even untrusting of some of her distant family, too.”

  Evelyn thought back to all the people she had talked to today: piano tutor, choir orchestrator, the sheriff, the deputy, Bella’s parents, her doctor, and Kimmy. All of them had different responses to Bella’s vanishing and to Evelyn's family name. They were all old enough to have partaken of the murders starting a decade and half ago. Evelyn needed evidence.

  “Evelyn Quenby is your real name, right?” Kimmy asked out of the left field.

  “Maiden name, if you can call it that. My father put down a different name on the adoption papers,” Evelyn explained.

  “You know, I met your father,” Kimmy said.

  Evelyn sat up, giving the girl her complete attention.

  “When I was young, he invited my father over to the plantation. What a beautiful house.”

  “Tell me about Maxwell.”

  “He was intelligent, handsome… sad,” Kimmy explained. “He didn’t talk too much. Just listened and sipped his wine. My father and Maxwell were good friends, but I felt the relationship was one-sided. Maxwell… he was a hard man to read, but always good with kids.”

  “Kids and ladies, from what we’ve heard,” Terrence chimed in.

  “Those were the rumors,” Kimmy said. “But Maxwell seemed like a one-woman type of guy, and that is why I think he was so lonely.”

  “How did he die?” Evelyn asked.

  Kimmy opened her mouth to speak when the doorknob jiggled. Kimmy opened it to a man in a business suit. On his rectangular head, his eyes were brown and his mouth was wide with a smile that creased his clear face. “I was looking for you, Kim.”

  When he saw Evelyn, the man’s smile faded.

  “Dad, this is Evelyn Carr and her husband Terrence,” Kimmy gestured to them.

  “Hey,” Terrence replied

  “This is my father, Mayor Joshua Timberland.”

  Timberland bounced his eyes between Evelyn and Terrence. “The two of you should go.”

  “Dad--”

  Evelyn stood. “It’s alright. Come on, Terrence.”

  Reluctant, Terrence stood.

  Timberland stood aside. “I know your game. Stay away from my daughter.”

  “I don’t have a game,” Evelyn replied.

  “Your father said the same thing. Go.”

  Without resistance, Evelyn collected her things and returned to Quenby House. Off Terrence’s pressing look, Evelyn said, “My father had blackmail material, remember? He didn’t make himself many friends.”

  “You’d think he’d try to help us if Maxwell burned the blackmail material against him.”

  “Not if it was ammo against his enemies, too.”

  The giant vine-covered mansion under the moonlight welcomed them. Evelyn and Terrence double-checked the door locks and window bolts,

  “Goodnight,” Evelyn whispered down into the lounge before closing the door.

  In the master bedroom, Evelyn and Terrence lay in bed. Evelyn closed her eyes and could see the hay field. She felt the edge of a knife on her throat.

  CRASH!

  Evelyn and Terrence shot up out of bed.

  Someone else was in the house.

  It wasn’t a phantom.

  19

  Crawl Space

  Evelyn and Terrence followed the noise through the creaking hallway. The old house groaned. They tried the light switch. Click. Nothing. They would be walking through the abyss. Evelyn relied on the ancient oil lamp and matches to guide her through the long halls of Quenby House. They whispered the names of the phantoms. No reply.

  Terrence coiled his fingers around a bat. Evelyn kept one hand on her heavy baton and the other hand on an oil lamp. The puny flame cast its orange and yellow glow across the old wallpaper and thin red carpet. A chilling breeze coasted through the house and painted Evelyn with goose bumps. They reached the inner balcony of the foyer. The firelight reflected off the massive multi-tiered chandelier at the center of the domed ceiling.

  Standing beneath it were all seven ghosts: Zoey, Barker, Winslow, Andrew, Alannah, Mary, and Peter. They stared at Evelyn.

  Evelyn loomed above the railing. “What?”

  In unison, the phantoms raised their left hands and pointed to the hall of portraits. Evelyn gulped and hiked down the steps. The phantoms kept pointing. Evelyn pressed her back against the wall by the threshold. She peeked around the corner. At the far end, past the great patriarchs of the Quenby family and one female portrait of the plantation’s founder, the kitchen door was flung open. Evelyn and Terrence walked that way.

  They reached the kitchen. The room could fit multiple cooks and had spacious cabinets and multiple walk-in pantries. A wooden island marked the room’s center, where the servants and slaves would prep meals for dozens of esteemed guests. The metal-faced refrigerator upgraded the old icebox and an electric stove stood in the spot where the old gas stove sat. The mansion’s first brick stove remained. Soot blackened its mouth like a child after having ice cream. Like when Terrence and Evelyn moved in, most of the kitchen remained untouched. They investigated cabinets and pantries but had never used them, which was why the open pantry door terrified them.

  Terrence stepped ahead of Evelyn. He held the bat at the ready and used the side of his foot to scoot the door open the rest of the way. Empty shelves lined three of the four sides. Dust bunnies gathered on the upper one. A squashed cockroach twitched its last remaining leg at the foot of the doorway. Terrence leaned his head inside of the confined space. He tapped the bat on the floor, tilting his head slightly as he listened for hollowness.

  “The wall,” Evelyn pointed at the left wall.

  Terrence tapped his bat on the upper tier shelf, middle tier, and then just below the bottom shelf. The wood sounded different there. In his boxers and white t-shirt, Terrence squatted and brushed a hand over the lower portion of the wall. A small section pushed in. With a click, it pushed back out to Terrence an inch. He glanced up at Evelyn and then pulled it open. Evelyn crouched next to him. She outstretched the flickering oil wick, looking into the dusty crawl space: about three and half square feet. Its walls were wooden planks, the same as the secret passage to the hidden study.

  “This is right about the time we should call th
e cops,” Terrence whispered.

  Evelyn shook her head. “We can do this.”

  Terrence sighed. “I go first.”

  “You sure? I thought you’d want to look at my butt.” Evelyn said.

  Terrence pondered it. “You had to make this hard, didn’t you?”

  Evelyn shrugged.

  Grumbling, Terrence climbed in first.

  “Your loss.” Evelyn followed behind.

  “Don’t remind me,” Terrence replied.

  They traveled into the corridor, Terrence at the helm. He held the oil lamp and bat. They walked straight to the back of the house, Evelyn believed. It turned right and reached a fork. Straight ahead, up a ladder, roughly where Evelyn thought the backyard was. Sweat drenched them after a few minutes. Their knees were red and raw. Musty dust hung in the air and launched Evelyn into a sneezing fit. Terrence bumped his head on the ceiling at one point, and he groaned as dirt fell on his bald head like snow.

  The idea of turning back tempted Evelyn, but she realized too late that these tunnels weren’t made for turning around. Evelyn wondered why they were created. Her only guess was that they were escape routes in case of a slave revolt. Did my father know about this? Evelyn didn’t know. More time passed and her joints were killing her.

  She wondered where it would spit her out.

  Finally, the claustrophobic corridor came to an end at a seven-rung ladder. “How deep are we?” Terrence asked. He put the lamp aside and climbed. Meeting little resistance, he pushed open the hatch. The black night and stars carpeted the sky above his head. In a moment, he had exited. Evelyn shoved the retracted baton in the left side of her boy shorts, grabbed the oil lamp, and climbed the ladder.

  They stood in a wooded area, far outside the property. In the far distance, Quenby House looked like a little box car.

  They looked around the woods, listening to night creatures, owls, and bugs, knowing that the mansion had a million more secrets.

  Back in the bedroom, Terrence sat at the corner of the mattress and clicked open the metal box. He pulled out a small stack of fifties. “We can stay at a motel for a few nights, and then we’re out of our savings.”