“Excuse me?” Addison asked.
He swiveled around. “Yes?”
“Do you work here?”
Barry tapped the plastic name plate pinned over his right breast pocket.
“Can you tell me where I might find the newspaper archives?” she asked.
“Which ones?”
“I’d like to look at everything you have from the late fifties.”
“I meant which paper,” he said, with a wink.
“The Rhinebeck Bee.”
Barry inserted his thumbs beneath the suspenders, running them up and down. “Follow me.”
Barry led her down a spiral staircase. He tried on occasion to glance to the side as he spoke, but his neck brace kept his head taut, as if hot glued in place.
“You one of those history buffs or somethin’?” Barry asked.
“No. I’m just trying to find information on someone.”
“A relative?”
“I’m not sure—I don’t think so.”
“Whadd’ya expect to find if you don’t know who you’re looking for?” he joked.
She changed the subject. “Have you worked here long?”
“Long enough. I suppose I could retire. I don’t relish the idea of sitting around the house with nothing to do except watch Spencer for Hire reruns all day. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it. You ever see that show?”
She’d never even heard of it before. “I don’t believe so.”
“You should watch it sometime. Robert Urich was a damn good actor, you ask me. Died too young.” Barry opened a door on the right and extended his hand, ushering Addison inside. “Okay, these boxes here on the third shelf,” he pointed, “are labeled with the year on the front, so it’s easier for you to find the one you want. The Rhinebeck Bee didn’t publish as much as some of their larger counterparts, so there’s only one box per year. Shouldn’t be too hard for you to find what you need. I’ll leave the door open—holler at me if you need anything else. Of course it might take some time for me to get back down here.”
Addison smiled. “If I need anything, I’ll come find you.”
He walked out the door, hesitating before climbing the stairs to the main level. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. The papers have all been preserved inside plastic sleeves, but they’re the originals. Best you be gentle.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She pulled down a box labeled: Rhinebeck Bee: 1952. The first seven months’ worth of papers didn’t contain any information about a missing woman. It wasn’t until she perused the paper for August that she found something—a headline which read: “Young Starlet Still Missing.” She used the tips of her fingers to gently remove it from the box.
Dominating the center of the front page, in black and white, was a woman—smiling, vibrant, full of life and confidence—almost unrecognizable when compared to the frail, panic-stricken woman she’d seen over the past two days.
But it was her.
Addison was sure of it.
The woman was twenty-nine, the same age as Addison. Her raven-colored hair was long and lustrous. It parted in the middle of her forehead, falling into thick, loose curls over both sides of her face, nearly covering her eyes. She stood, legs spread wide, hands on hips, staring into the camera like she didn’t just plan to live in the world, she planned to own it.
The date on the paper was August 25, 1952. The article read:
It has been two weeks since the disappearance of up-and-coming actress Roxanne “Roxy” Rafferty, Oscar-nominated for her role in Joseph Lennart’s film, A Night in Paris. Rafferty was last seen attending a dinner party in Rhinebeck, New York. When questioned, party host Marjorie Grayson said in a statement to police that the actress had left her home shortly after eleven that evening. She hadn’t seen or heard from the Hollywood starlet since that time. Police have questioned everyone in attendance that night, but as of today, Rafferty’s whereabouts are unknown. A thorough search of the actress’s home has been conducted. At this time police have not commented about the search, divulged any new leads, or said whether foul play has been suspected.
Roxanne Rafferty, age twenty-nine, first starred in the critically-acclaimed romantic comedy, Stolen Kisses, at the tender age of twenty-one. Since that time, Rafferty has been highly sought after and widely regarded as an actress with the ability to bring success to any role she’s given. Often seen playing the role of the beautiful and confident girl next door, it’s been widely speculated that doe-eyed Rafferty was involved with her costars both on and off screen.
Three years ago, rumors circulated of her romance with actor Phillip Edwards while on the set of Fly Me Away and were quickly confirmed when Rafferty was seen donning a three-carat, diamond-and-platinum engagement ring, said to be given to her by the dashing actor, who was ten years her senior. But the wedding never came to pass and was eventually called off by Rafferty soon after she started filming A Night in Paris, where she was believed to be dating another costar, this time leading-actor and already-married Hugh Brandon.
The article went on to say that Rafferty’s disappearance occurred at the same time Norman Grayson went missing, creating speculation that the two of them had left town together after the party at Grayson Manor. Witnesses from the night of the party gave conflicting reports, some saying Grayson and Rafferty were seen leaving together, others saying Rafferty left earlier while Grayson had remained.
Addison pulled a piece of scrap paper out of her wallet and a miniature-sized pencil she’d snagged from a desk upstairs and jotted down anything she felt was relevant information. She snapped a few photos with her camera phone and then forwarded them to Luke. Then she carefully slipped the newspaper back into place and searched the rest of that year for any further information on the missing woman.
There was none.
Addison returned the box to the shelf and retrieved the one for the following year. The second article she found was headlined: “Where Is Roxanne Rafferty?” In the article, it was reported that no new leads had surfaced over the past six months. Police were baffled, speculating that she was indeed dead, although her body had never been found. Some friends and family insisted Rafferty wouldn’t just walk away from such a promising, lucrative career, including two starring roles slated to begin filming the following year.
There were no further articles on the disappearance of her grandfather, and a search of all the papers for the rest of 1953 turned up one additional result for Rafferty. A meager, insignificant article written on page six proclaimed the case had gone cold. Investigators shelved it, pending new leads. But there weren’t any new leads—not that year, not the next year, and not the year after that. Everyone had moved on.
CHAPTER 17
Addison did not recognize the names Hugh Brandon or Phillip Edwards, and she was sure she’d never seen any of their movies. When she reminisced about famous names from the bygone era, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, and Gary Cooper came to mind, among others. But not these two names. Had something caused both Hugh and Phillip’s stars to fade? Hollywood had a way of discarding people now and then, replacing them with younger, more robust and ambitious actors.
The fate of both men was only one of many on Addison’s mind. She wondered how her grandparents were affiliated with the elite of society. Sure, her grandmother had looked the part, but her mother had said Marjorie was a working-class girl—not the next Marilyn Monroe. Had her mother lied? And what of her grandfather?
“You lost?” A woman in her late forties clasping the rod to a yellow umbrella, even though it wasn’t raining outside, squinted, staring quizzically into Addison’s eyes. The moment the woman stopped, so did the little black dog she was walking. The dog sauntered over to the woman’s side and sat on the pavement, as if he’d been given some kind of nonverbal cue. The woman smiled, clearly in awe of his talents. “Good boy, Reggie.” She reached into her pocket and flicked a little red piece of meat, which the dog caught in his mouth before it had the
chance to hit the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Addison replied. “Was I in your way?”
“You didn’t hear me say ‘excuse me’ a moment ago?”
Addison shook her head.
“Do you need help finding something?” the woman asked.
“I don’t know.”
The woman shrugged. “All right then. But you probably should watch where you’re going. Most people around here aren’t as polite as I am.”
“Believe me,” Addison said, “I know what it’s like to live in the city.”
The woman looped the dog leash around her hand a couple times and then gave it a gentle tug. “Walk on,” she said. The dog moved forward in a straight line like a metal wind-up toy.
“Wait,” Addison shouted.
The woman glanced halfway over her shoulder, her body aligned on its current course. “What is it? Be quick. You’re disrupting Reggie’s routine.”
“Do you know a place around here that sells old movies?”
The woman thought about it for exactly one second before huffing a sharp, “Nope, sorry.” She then whipped her head back around, marching in a much brisker manner than before.
No further questions, your honor.
Addison leaned against the stucco exterior of a department-store building and sighed. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out all of the hustle and flow that came along with life in a big city.
What am I doing?
She was alone in her thoughts long before someone tugged on the sleeve of her jacket. It was light but insistent, like the gentle plea of a child. Only it wasn’t. An elderly man, no more than five feet tall, smiled up at her with his one good eye while the lazy one seemingly stared at nothing. The plaid cap he wore on his patchy, thinning head made him look like a taxi cab driver, even though she sensed he wasn’t one.
“I do,” he said.
“I’m sorry?”
“You asked the dog lady if she knew where to find old movies. I do.”
“All right, where?”
“Can you give me a ride?” he asked.
His tenuous body gave her little cause for concern. “Where do you need a ride to?”
“You want to buy old movies, don’t you? I know a place.”
“I don’t have a car,” Addison stated, deciding safety came first, no matter how innocent he seemed.
“Sure you do. It’s the silver one over there,” he said, a calloused finger bent in the right direction.
Her eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
“I watched you get out of it. You entered the library at half past twelve and came out five minutes before three.”
“Are you following me?”
“I’m waiting,” he said.
“For who?”
“My brother, Barry. He works there.”
Barry confirmed that Raymond was just trying to secure a ride home. Occasionally he brought him along, leaving Raymond to sit at a table in one of the conference rooms and read while he worked. It was Barry’s way of getting his brother out of the house. But Raymond lacked patience, often trying to procure a ride home from anyone he thought would give it to him. On occasion, he succeeded. Addison agreed to drop Raymond at home in exchange for him pointing out the location of the movie store.
Forty minutes and one drop-off later, she entered a tiny shop with heavy, black bars on the windows in a questionable part of town. The door should have jingled when she entered, given the strand of metal bells hanging from the handle. If it did, no one heard it. The sounds blaring through the oversized speakers mounted on the wall made sure of that.
“’Sup?”
Addison turned to face a man with piercings in his nose, ears, tongue, and on his forehead, though how that was possible, she didn’t know.
“I’m Alex,” he said, his body bouncing up and down to the rhythmic beat as he spoke. “You’re cute—like in a hot kind of way.”
“I think I’m in the wrong place,” she said, taking a step backward.
“Looks right to me,” he winked. “Funny how the sweet-looking babes all like the hard stuff.”
Does he mean drugs? Or the music? Or both?
She turned to leave. He tapped her on the shoulder.
“Seriously, what are you looking for?”
“I was told I could find old movies here. I was told wrong. Sorry.”
Addison pushed the door open.
“Hang on,” he said.
The music switched off, leaving Addison with one thought in mind: run. But then he said something unpredictable. “Let me get my grams.” He walked through the beaded doorway and disappeared into the back room.
His grams?
“Grams” wasn’t at all what Addison expected when he came back into the room. Accompanying him was an old woman wearing a hippie-looking smock shirt. She had long, grey hair that was braided to one side and draped over her shoulder. She smiled, her beady eyes exuding the kind of excitement her mother possessed when she was alive. Addison’s nerves subsided. “I’m Adele. What can I do for you, honey?” Grams said.
“I was told I could buy classic movies here, but I believe I was steered in the wrong direction. From the looks of it, you only sell new movies and electronics.”
Among other things.
Adele sighed. “I had no choice. No one appreciates them anymore. Not when they can get them online for half the price.”
“So your grandson works here?”
She nodded. “I know how he must look to you, but he’s harmless. He runs this place now. A bit different than I did, of course. I pop in from time to time to say hello. You’re lucky you caught me. Now what is it you’re looking for?”
“Do you have any movies with Roxanne Rafferty?”
The woman breathed deeply and shook her head. “Roxy Rafferty. Talented actress in her day. Poor girl. Police never found her. Did you know that?”
“You know about her movie career?”
The woman looked at Addison like she’d just asked if she knew gasoline was required to make a car drive. “First movie, Stolen Kisses, starring Miles Kent and Julie Devall. It was Roxy’s first role. Next was Lucky Star with Wayne Cummings and Sally Sands. Fly Me Away was her first supporting role. That’s where she met—”
“Hugh Brandon.”
The woman beamed with pride. “You an old movie buff like me?”
“Just someone who’s interested in Roxanne’s work. But I guess you don’t have any of those movies anymore,” Addison said, glancing around.
“Come with me and we’ll find out.”
“You know a lot about movies. Is that from owning a store?”
“Partly. I was a stage hand once upon a time. Met a lot of actors that way: Audrey Hepburn and Rita Hayworth, or Rita Cansino as they once called her. It was my own little slice of heaven.”
“Why did you quit?” Addison asked.
“I got married, had a baby. Decided to take some time off. I thought I could go back once my son started school. When I tried, they didn’t need me anymore. They had more young kids lined up at the door for the job than they knew what to do with. So I packed it in and opened my own shop.”
The woman walked through a doorway and pulled on a metal chain dangling from the ceiling. The light flickered a few times before beaming its rays throughout the vapid, time-worn room.
“What do you think?” the woman said, pointing to an old campaign book hanging on the wall beside her.
Addison inched forward, admiring the swirl pattern of the “C” and the “G,” which looked more like the number nine than a letter. “Is that really Clark Gable’s signature?”
“Watch the movie sometime. See if you recognize the girl walking the horse onto the track in the background.”
“Was it you?”
Adele smiled. “Might be hard, of course; I wasn’t even twenty years old when they filmed it.” She walked over to a series of metal cabinets. “What movie did you say?”
“I’m really inter
ested in the ones she did with Hugh Brandon and Phillip Edwards, but I’ll take whatever you can find.”
“Why those two—because they were her lovers?” she winked.
“It does make them seem a little more interesting.”
“Sad story, what happened to Phillip Edwards. Fell from his horse while shooting an action scene in a western.”
“He died?”
“Not from the fall, no. When Edwards hit the ground, the horse got spooked, kicking him in the head, repeatedly. They transported him to the hospital, but it didn’t do much good. His skull had been fractured.”
“What about the other guy?”
“Hugh Brandon?” she asked. “He made a few more movies after Fly Me Away. They sank faster than the Titanic. I haven’t seen him in a movie since, actually.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“Used to live around here. Maybe still does. Who knows? Most actors have homes all over the place.” Adele stuck her hand into one of the file drawers and pulled out a VHS tape. “Here it is. A Night in Paris. Such a wonderful movie.” She checked a few other drawers, carefully inspecting their contents. “I believe this is the only one I have that Miss Rafferty was in.”
“What about Hugh’s movies?”
“I might have Keeper of Lies…let me see.” She fumbled around. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to find it. I hate to say this, but you might want to have a look online.”
“I’m just glad you found one,” Addison said, waving the tape around. “How much do I owe you?”
Adele swished a hand through the air. “Nothing. I haven’t sold these for years. You have anything to watch it on?”
“All I have is a DVD player.”
“Didn’t imagine you’d have any use for a VCR. You can use one of mine.”
“I’ll return everything as soon as I’m finished.”
“I’ve switched to a digital player myself. You can just toss it when you’re done. I would like the video-tape back though, if it’s not too much trouble. Memory’s sake. Truth be told, A Night in Paris has always been one of my favorites. There’s something magical about Roxy in that movie. You’ll see. Even after all these years, you won’t be able to take your eyes off of her. I just wish I could watch it without getting the thoughts out of my mind.”
Grayson Manor Haunting Page 7