House of the Golden Butterfly

by B. Groves

  “No procrastinating, I like it,” George said with a dazzling smile.

  As Claire read over the paperwork, she asked a few questions.

  “I know you have attorney-client privilege with my grandmother,” Claire said. “But what can you tell me about Rose? Did she ever say why she never contacted me before this?”

  George sat back in his chair and rubbed his goatee. “She never went in-depth about it. I asked her several times and she said she couldn’t handle raising a small child after the death of your mother and brother. Which is perfectly normal considering the circumstances, and when I asked her if she talked to you, she said she paid your way and that was good enough.”

  “Paid my way?” Claire frowned. “You mean through college? I thought so.”

  George looked at Claire with raised eyebrows. He then reached for the paperwork and took out a sheet that Claire hadn’t viewed yet.

  “I thought you’d figure it out,” George said.

  Claire grabbed the paper out of George’s hand. Mary and Clay promised to retain a separate bank account for Claire’s finances while she attended school. The deposits would come once a year to be distributed to pay for room, board, and tuition.

  Claire set the paper back on the desk and swallowed hard. It’s not that she wasn’t eternally grateful for Rose’s generosity, it was another lie that Claire had to add to the pile.

  Mary and Clay told her the tuition was left over from her father and a small inheritance they received and paid for her education with it.

  “I never knew that,” Claire said, her back stiff and the other paperwork limp in her hand.

  “Rose gave strict orders to keep it confidential until you came back or did whatever you wanted with the house and her other assets,” George commented.

  “This gets weirder by the day,” Claire said more to herself than to George.

  “Claire, I don’t know what Rose’s motivations were. It could have been anything. All I know is she was very proud of you and all that you accomplished. She was a hard woman, but I remember when you signed your book contract, she softened,” George explained with a smile.

  “How did she know about that?” Claire asked more exasperated than she wanted to appear.

  “She had contact with your paternal grandparents over the years, that much I know.”

  Claire sighed and knew that she was going around in circles with George. It was clear he knew some details only about Rose and her secrets but not enough for Claire to solve the mystery of her brother’s death.

  Claire hid her disappointment from George and decided not to probe him any further.

  Claire had other plans today. It would be the day she would finally see her family’s graves and knew it would turn her mood even gloomier.

  “She was a private person,” he finished. “She didn’t want to talk much, just get down to business.”

  Another dead end in Claire’s mind.

  Claire left the lawyer’s office frustrated but armed with even more determination.

  She needed a friend. She wanted to talk to Mac but that would have to wait since he sent her a text earlier that morning saying he would call her tonight.

  She thought of Shirley and realized there was something about the woman that brought a familiarity and comfort to her.

  Shirley had to be around her mother’s age. She seemed like the type of person willing to listen to anyone’s problems and help them through difficult times.

  The bakery was on her way to the cemetery.

  Claire pulled into the parking lot and was relieved to see only one car in the parking lot.

  She walked into the sweet smell of pastries and the strong scent of ground coffee beans.

  The young woman behind the counter looked up to see Claire and her eyes widened with recognition.

  Claire ignored the look and wondered if Rose always received the same glances whenever she walked into a place of business when she was alive.

  Claire smiled when Shirley came out with a fresh batch of Danishes and transferred them into the glass case behind her.

  Claire sat down at the bar noticed there was another person a few stools down. The man was older with snow-white hair and wrinkles as deep as the Grand Canyon. He looked to be engrossed in his newspaper and never even acknowledged the waitress when she refilled his coffee cup.

  “Claire,” Shirley said turning around to grin at her. “Always good to see you.”

  “Hi, Shirley,” Claire said. The girl came over and took her order. She ordered a regular coffee and the Danish Shirley placed in the display case.

  “They’re strawberry and cheese,” Shirley said proudly.

  “The secret ingredient?” Claire asked with a smile.

  “The one and only.”

  Claire took a bite and chewed on the sweet, tart, and creamy Danish and gave Shirley a thumbs up.

  Shirley puffed her chest in pride and leaned over the counter.

  “What brings you into my humble shop today?” She asked.

  Claire turned her head from side to side. The shop was empty except the old man sitting on the other side of the bar.

  “Do you have a minute?” Claire asked.

  Shirley instructed her waitress to go glaze some doughnuts that were ready.

  She turned to Claire and said, “Talk to me, darlin.’You look like you’ve been drug through the seven pits of hell.”

  Claire blushed. “That bad, huh?”

  Shirley winked at her and said, “Get it off your chest.”

  Claire didn’t want to give too much away. Shirley would she was insane, so she left out the part her brother’s murder, but confessed coming back to her mentally and felt betrayed by the secrets that her family kept even after death.

  As Claire finished, she thought she heard a grunt from the old man sitting at the bar, but wasn’t sure.

  Shirley heard it to since her eyes darted towards him, but she turned back to Claire. The look on her face turned from concern to a dark expression. Claire questioned whether telling Shirley anything more was a good idea but ignored her instinct and do it anyway. When she furrowed her brow in question, Shirley hid the expression behind an emotionless mask.

  Shirley tried to smile, although it was a thin smile. “You poor girl. I wish I had some words of wisdom, but I think the answer is right in front of you. Your mind is playin’ tricks on you.”

  Claire thought she heard a grunt from the old man again, but this time didn’t turn his way.

  She noticed Shirley’s eyes turned ever so slightly to glare at him but came back to settle on Claire.

  Claire thought Shirley’s smile became even thinner like she was forced to pin it on her face.

  Claire thought the old man was being nosy about their conversation but thought he might have known Rose—they looked about the same age—and was keeping his opinions to himself.

  Claire felt so much better after unloading to Shirley who patted her hand and said it would all work out and she would be a better woman for it.

  “Family secrets are the worst,” she said with Claire noticing her eyes darting over the old man for a split second. “They can tear a family to pieces, and it can take generations to put those pieces back together. My family went through somethin’ similar. I had to keep secrets to keep the peace, but I’ve been free of that for a long time.”

  Again, Shirley’s eyes darted over to the old man, but he never turned around.

  “What does a man need gotta do to get the check?” The old man asked after Claire and Shirley finished their conversation.

  Shirley stood up straight and rolled her eyes making Claire stifle a laugh.

  “Coming, Jack,” Shirley said. She turned back to Claire. “That’s Jack. He’s a retired police officer and the grumpiest old coot I’ve ever met.”

  Jack grunted again. Claire thought about walking over to him and asking him a few questions but decided against the idea since he seemed like he was in a bad mood.

  Cl
aire heard a beeping after Shirley had handed the old man his change.

  “Are you good?” Shirley asked walking back over to Claire.

  “I am,” Claire smiled. “Thanks for the ear.”

  Shirley shrugged. “No problem. You wanna have lunch one day?”

  Claire was excited. The familiarity bubbled within her. It came out of nowhere as they talked. Claire couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she thought she somehow knew that fate brought them together.

  “I would love that,” Claire said.

  “I have to go and do more baking for the afternoon crowd, but you better have a good rest of your day,” Shirley said pointing a finger at Claire.

  “I will.”

  Shirley walked into the baking area and barked some instructions to the waitress who was still in the baking area glazing doughnuts or something.

  Claire was now alone with the old man in the store. She turned and stared at him for a few seconds still debating whether to talk to him or let it go. She turned back to stare at the inside of her half-filled coffee cup and weighed her options.

  He had to know Mac and thought that would be a good conversation starter for him. Wouldn’t it? She could use Mac’s name to steer the conversation to Rose. How? She didn’t know.

  Claire sighed to herself and looked at her phone. She knew she was acting like a coward, but the guy seemed so grumpy.

  Deciding she would not walk out of the store without more answers, she turned to face him and realized he was standing next to her.

  Claire almost fell off the stool, but the old man was surprisingly fast and grabbed her arm to steady her.

  Strong, too as his thin, veiny fingers gripped her upper arm.

  Claire was so shocked by the exchange that she couldn’t find the words to utter to the man. Did she thank him for keeping off the tile floor or did she get pissed off and tell him he scared her shitless?

  As she looked at him up close, she could see the wrinkles were as deep as she thought, with one of his blue eyes clouded over from cataracts. His hair was snow white, but thinning at the top.

  He had only two front teeth left and his lips were thin and purple.

  “Yeah, I knew your grandma,” he said. His voice gravely and phlegmy.

  “You—you did?” Claire stuttered.

  She realized he was still holding her arm.

  “What can you tell—”

  He let go of her arm and raised his hand to silence her. Claire shut her mouth in response.

  “You want the truth?” Jack asked.

  “The truth?”

  Jack blinked. His face darkened and his words came out with venom. “You know damn well what happened to your brother.”

  Claire flinched from his scathing words. She thought she would break down and cry right there, but swallowed the sobs that became stuck in her throat.

  “Sir, my brother drowned,” Claire said, her voice shaking.

  Jack grunted again and looked around to make sure no one else was around.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” he said. His eyes darted towards the kitchen area and then back to Claire. “Your memories will come back after you find that some people are not who they say they are.”

  With that, Jack walked away and out of the shop leaving Claire with her mouth wide open.

  She turned back and stared at the glass case for a few more minutes wondering what the old man could have meant by what he said to her. People were not who they said they were.

  Claire had even more questions. She needed some fresh air as the robust and sweet smells of the shop were more annoying now than comforting.

  She placed a huge tip on the counter and walked out through the glass door.

  She tried to find the old man in the parking lot, but he was long gone.

  She wished she could have talked to him more, but he surprised her.

  Claire’s mind was so full of questions, but no answers. She hated every minute of it.

  She breathed in the cool mountain air and decided to visit the cemetery where her parents were buried.

  She hoped that would bring her some closure.

  The hole inside her belly opened as she drove there and parked her car.

  20.

  I t just had to be a mausoleum. Of course, it was. Her mother’s side of the family came from old money, with more time on their hands than Claire could have ever hoped for early in her life.

  The marble tomb sat in the corner of the huge cemetery overlooking a small lake, with White Oak trees dotting the area around it.

  The name Kinsey took up most of the top front of the structure above the doors to let everyone know who these people were when they lived.

  Claire didn’t know how to feel about this monument to her family. She walked around the structure and found other graves with different names that may have been related to the Kinsey name one way or another.

  Mary told Claire her parents were interred in this place. They visited their son’s final resting place several times when Claire was young, but as they aged and money became tight from medical bills, those visits stopped.

  Except for the occasional car driving by, and the groundskeepers doing their jobs on the property, Claire was alone with her thoughts in front of her family’s tomb.

  She stood frozen in place knowing this was a huge part of her past and knowing she’d come here to discover more about her mother’s side of the family. She needed to face this head on or she may never know what happened to David.

  Claire breathed in the cool, autumn air and decided it was now or never.

  She walked up the elaborate steps and opened the glass door.

  Peeking inside, she found fluorescent lights shining down on the smooth white marble.

  She stepped inside wondering if the chill that ran down her spine was from the coolness of the room or from her visit.

  There was no sound inside, except her breathing and her footsteps as her boots tapped on the floor and echoed off the walls.

  Claire turned from one side to another. Looks could be deceiving. The mausoleum didn’t look very big from the outside, but the inside told a whole different story.

  About fifty people could fit inside based on the dimensions of the room.

  The inside was surprisingly plain, and Claire didn’t find any fancy memorials for the dead except for a vase filled with fresh flowers sitting on a table on the other side of the room.

  She couldn’t detect any kind of odd scents. Only clean air greeted her from a vent in the corner.

  Claire wasn’t sure how many family members were buried inside this place, and when she turned to her left she found some bigger crypts and some smaller crypts.

  She walked farther inside trying to find her parents and found they were not interred along the left wall.

  She turned to her right and gasped when she first saw Rose’s name on the top crypt. Below Rose was her mother’s name and then her father’s crypt.

  With shaky hands, Claire walked over and put her hand over the smooth, cool marble tomb and caressed her mother’s full name with her date of birth and date of death.

  Beloved mother and daughter. Your light will never dim.

  She kneeled further to view her father’s crypt.

  Robert Daniel Westcott.

  Beloved father and son. May the angels guide you on your new journey.

  Claire remembered Mary telling her about the words engraved on the crypt.

  Claire placed a hand over her mouth and tried to blink back her tears.

  She stood to gaze at Rose’s tomb at eye-level.

  Rose Marie Kinsey.

  Beloved wife, mother, and grandmother.

  Claire looked to her right to find her grandfather’s tomb with the same inscription along with his title as Mayor of Lingate.

  Claire stood there for a while grieving the family she never knew. She tried conjuring memories—any memory of her parents— but nothing surfaced.

  The empty, gaping hole in
her gut grew to where it could have swallowed her whole as she tried to picture her parents, but there was nothing to grasp onto. She would spend the rest of her life relying on pictures of them to give her comfort.

  She had a clear picture of Rose. David was responsible for that, but who was the mysterious shadowy figure?

  Claire turned her attention to the rest of her family not sure who was who, but she grieved over them anyway.

  A feeling of emptiness came over her knowing that David wasn’t resting beside the rest of her family.

  Claire gazed one last time at the crypts within the mausoleum and decided she had more searching to do.

  She didn’t have plans tonight, and this was the perfect opportunity for her to do more digging.

  She was exhausted mentally. The visions of her brother were taking a toll on her, but she had a mission.

  She would find him and finally lay him to rest with the dignity he deserved, and then she would find who the mysterious shadow was and seek them out.

  She left the mausoleum and returned home, ignoring the quaint part of town she had to drive through to get home. It was only early afternoon so she had plenty of time before dusk settled over the area.

  Claire didn’t even enter the house. She walked straight to the shed, grabbed the shovel and the pickax and inspected the property.

  She looked for any uneven ground or anything that would give her a clue about where her brother was buried.

  If he was in the forest, she would never find him, but based on what David told her he was somewhere near the house.

  Claire found a small mound near the outside basement doors. She placed her foot over it and found the ground soft enough to dig.

  Claire decided to start there.

  She grabbed the shovel sitting against the house, and started digging up some dirt.

  ***

  It was hours later when Claire finally threw down the shovel in frustration. She sat down on the porch steps and felt a chill caress her skin as she relaxed from the work she’d been doing around the yard.

  She took off her sweater leaving her in a light t-shirt.

  Now, the weather was turning colder from the sunset.

  Claire ran her hand through her hair. She checked the time knowing Mac would be calling soon and her stomach grumbled from hunger although she wanted to keep digging.