Belle Manor Haunting

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  She lifted herself onto a barstool. “I see things sometimes.”

  “In your dreams?”

  Close enough.

  She nodded. “Call them visions. I have no control over what I see or when I see it.”

  “Are you saying you saw me in the car the day of the car crash? Impossible. Why would you even dream about an event so far in the past that has nothing to do with you?”

  He may not have been a believer, but it didn’t stop him from fishing for more information.

  “The song “You’re So Vain” was playing on the radio. You were wearing tan suede boots. You had one of them on the dash. I can keep going.”

  Theo was stunned. He slumped against the counter to keep from face-planting on the floor. Addison hopped off the barstool and rushed to his side.

  “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—”

  He caught his breath and said, “I’m fine. I’m just ... well, in shock. Give me a minute to process.”

  He shuffled to the pantry, flipped on the light, and leaned over a shelf, pushing items to the side until he found what he was after—an unopened bottle of whisky.

  He pulled it out and said, “I always said I was saving this for a special occasion. I suppose a shocking one will have to do. Care for a drink?”

  “I’m fine. You go ahead.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  He twisted the top off and tipped the bottle back, taking a few hearty swigs. He set it on the counter without putting the lid back on and winked at Addison.

  “Gonna keep this within reach,” he said. “I may need another hit. I’m not sure my heart can take any more surprises. For now, let’s say I believe you. What is it you want from me?”

  “I know it’s been a long time, but is there anything you can remember about the vehicle that hit you?”

  “After the accident, I was angry. I ran it through my head so many times. I thought if I kept going back over it, I’d catch a glimpse of something I could pass on to police. I thought maybe I had seen something and blocked it from my mind because of how traumatic it was.”

  “And did you think of anything?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint. Scarlett was the love of my life, you know. I mean, the first love of my life.”

  “How long had she worked for the Belles?”

  He looked to the side. “A few months. I can’t remember the exact number. Most of the time, she went there on the weekend.”

  “And she was the nanny they hired after Libby Carrington, right?”

  “When Libby went missing, the Belles laid low for a while. There was a lot of speculation about what happened, and from what Scarlett told me, some of the starlets who were regular guests weren’t comfortable going there anymore. They didn’t know what happened to the girl or why. It was a bit too scandalous, even for them, and they wanted to distance themselves from it. After some time went by and everything died down, the parties picked up again, and that’s when Scarlett got the job.”

  “Scarlett wasn’t worried about Libby not being found?”

  “Worried? She took the job because of Libby.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Scarlett wanted to ...”

  The front door opened, and his words trailed off.

  “Dearest,” a woman’s voice called, “I’m home.”

  “In the kitchen,” Theo said.

  A slender woman dressed in fitness attire with long, gray hair twisted into a bun entered the room carrying a yoga mat under her arm. She brushed her lips across Theo’s cheek and spun around, facing Addison.

  “You didn’t tell me we were having company tonight.”

  “He didn’t know I was dropping by,” Addison said. “I’m just headed out.”

  She stuck a hand out and said, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Harriet.”

  “Addison.”

  “Well, Addison, you’ll have to forgive me for not cleaning up. The house usually doesn’t look like this.”

  Theo and Addison exchanged glances.

  “It’s fine,” Addison said. “Like I said, Theo didn’t know I was coming.”

  “Why did you drop by, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “To ask him a few questions about the car accident he had in college.”

  She nodded. “I’ll wager a guess and say you didn’t get far. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Not even to me.”

  Theo stuck the oven mitt back on and pulled the roast out of the oven. “Dinner’s ready. We’ll have to pick our conversation up some other time, Addison. I’ll walk you out.”

  They reached the front door, and Addison glanced back at Theo. “I’d like to ask one more question before I go.”

  “All right. I have time for one more question.”

  “You said Scarlett took the nanny position because of Libby. Why? Did they know each other?”

  He nodded. “They were both on the college volleyball team and became close friends. Like everyone, when Libby disappeared, Scarlett was sure someone killed her. She decided to take the nanny position to see what she could find out. I didn’t want her to do it, but Scarlett was headstrong. She wasn’t the kind of girl who could be told what to do or what not to do.”

  “And did she learn anything while she worked there?”

  “I’m not sure. She wasn’t allowed upstairs, and she said every time she tried to look around, she was caught and had to find an excuse to explain herself.”

  “Who caught her?”

  “The same person every time. Sara’s father, Lawrence Belle.”

  Briggs was standing in front of a bench, feeding corn to a flock of ducks when Addison arrived. The park he’d asked to meet at had a glassy lake in its center and was surrounded by sprawling, grassy hills. It was a picturesque spot to roll out a blanket, sip on a glass of wine, and look to the heavens, watching the sun’s pastel colors ripple through the sky. Addison stood for a moment, taking in the display, the canvas before her serving as a subtle reminder of how much she missed when she didn’t slow down enough to notice what was right in front of her.

  Ever since Sara had appeared, Addison’s life had been thrust into fast-forward, the disarray and unrest causing her to lose the power and control she once had. Plates may have been spinning, but she didn’t need to spin with them. She needed to take them down, one by one, until they ceased to exist.

  Briggs tossed a handful of corn and acknowledged Addison with a grin.

  “Did you know you shouldn’t feed bread to these feathered beauties?” he asked.

  “I didn’t,” Addison said. “Why not?”

  He sat down. “Several reasons. When uneaten pieces of bread accumulate in a pond, it can create algae blooms and deplete oxygen from the water. The term for it is hypoxia. On land, uneaten bread can grow bits of mold. When the ducks find it after it’s been sitting for a while, if they eat it, they can get lung disease.”

  Addison sat down, thinking Briggs had missed his calling. Perhaps he should have been a teacher.

  “Next time I feed ducks, I’ll make sure to bring corn instead,” she said.

  “Doesn’t just have to be corn. Oats, seeds, lettuce, duck pellets ... they’re all good.”

  In a conversation she’d had with Luke right before she left for the park, she made a promise to arrive home within the next hour. She had no time for chitchat.

  “I visited Theo Price today,” she said. “He’s the guy who survived the car crash. The crash Scarlett and Sara were—”

  “Yup, I don’t need a reminder. I know who he is.”

  “Did you ever meet with him after the accident?”

  “Of course. Visited him while he was in the hospital. He was in bad shape. I wondered if he’d ever walk again. Been a long time since I’ve seen him. How’s he doing?”

  “One of his legs still gives him trouble. He walks with a slight limp. Otherwise, he seems to be doing well. Did Theo ever tell you the reason Scarlett took the nanny job?

  He nodd
ed. “Not much I could do with the information. To my knowledge she never found anything of importance, and the Belles seemed shocked when I told them Scarlett and Libby knew each other.”

  “In truth, I believe she did find something—a locket, the same locket taken into evidence after the car accident. Cecilia Belle told me Libby was wearing the locket the last day she was seen. What I’m wondering is, how did it end up in Scarlett’s car? She had to have found it at Belle Manor. Lawrence caught Scarlett milling around, and not long after, the car crash happened. Doesn’t it seem coincidental?”

  He raised a brow. “It does, but without a body, there’s not much I can do.”

  “The car crash was no accident.”

  He stared at the shimmery colors the sun reflected off the lake. “Yup, I agree. Always assumed it was foul play.”

  After all these years, he seemed a bit defeated. What small shred of optimism he still clung to had become a pipe dream, one he no longer expected to come to fruition. He had lost hope, but Addison hadn’t.

  The truth was close.

  She could feel it.

  “Did you bring the file?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Sure did.”

  He reached into his paper sack and scooped another handful of corn into his palm. The ever-growing audience of ducks steadied themselves, then scattered as he flung his hand in the air, showering them with one last feed.

  He addressed the ducks saying, “Ladies and gentleman, the show is now over. You can all go home. Meet back here tomorrow, same time, same place.”

  He wiped his hands on his pant legs, reached for the file, and handed it over. “Don’t get too excited. You know we found a minute amount of evidence. The file’s rather thin.”

  “I was hoping I could borrow it, if you don’t mind.”

  He frowned. “Not trying to be rude, but I’d rather you didn’t. It’s an old case, I know, and you’re right to think I hold it too close to the vest. I spent more than a long time piecing together what little I could, and I—”

  “You don’t need to explain,” Addison said, “I understand.”

  She flipped open the file, her eyes coming to rest on a small stack of photos at the top. She unfastened them from the paperclip they’d been secured with and held the first one in front of her. A dapper group of men and women were standing in front of a grand staircase, glamming it up in their Sunday best.

  “Who are these people?” Addison asked.

  Briggs lifted his glasses out of his shirt pocket, slipped them on, and leaned in to get a better look. “Okay, so, the last night Libby was seen, the Belles premiered a new movie, and they invited the cast along.”

  “What was the name of the movie?”

  “A Night in Rio. Several cast members accepted the invitation along with a handful of Belle regulars. The people whose heads I circled in the photo attended the screening. Those I didn’t circle did not.”

  Addison studied each face, scanning left to right. She looked for the man in the woods, the man who’d been chasing Libby. She was shocked to find he wasn’t there.”

  “Did any cast members attend who are not pictured in this photo?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “You said the Belles also invited regulars. Who were they?”

  Briggs thumbed through the pages in the file.

  “I have a list. For the most part, those who weren’t part of the movie cast were friends, and a few family members. Let me see ... Here it is.”

  He removed the list from the stack and handed it to her.

  “Big list,” she said.

  “The cast accounted for thirty-three of those invited, and the house guests added another fourteen.”

  “Forty-seven guests plus Lawrence and Cecilia Belle.”

  “They liked their soirees.”

  “Do you mind if I take a photo of the attendee list?”

  “Don’t see why not. Go right ahead.”

  Addison snapped a photo, slid the list back into place, and shifted her attention to a series of pictures of Libby’s car being pulled from the lake. The car was dented, the onset of corrosion evident. It looked like a prop on a movie set—a prop that had been to hell and back.

  “And there you have it,” Briggs said. “The infamous car with no tales to tell.”

  “You didn’t learn anything from it? Nothing at all?”

  “Aside from the fact it had been submerged in water for months, even if there was evidence, it wasn’t the same process back then. Maybe if it happened today, I would have had a better chance. Who knows? I was excited to find it. For the first time, I thought I was getting somewhere. It ended up being a huge disappointment and made the department look worse than it already did. People assumed we were incapable of solving the case. In ways, I suppose they were right.”

  “I’m sure the public knew you did everything you could.”

  “We were without a body or any decent clues. Libby existed one day and evaporated the next. My only option was to keep talking to those who saw her last until there was nothing more to say, and even that was disheartening.”

  “Because they all kept saying they didn’t know anything?” Addison asked.

  “The guests who attended the Belles’ party were stiff and robotic. It was like a meeting had been called before we pulled them in, and they’d been handed a script, the same script, with the same lines to say. Sure, most of them didn’t have a clue. But all of them? No way. Someone must have seen something.”

  Addison glanced at her phone, closed the file, and handed it back to him. “I promised my husband I’d be home soon, and I’ve already stayed too long.”

  “We’re not done going through it yet.”

  She stood. “We’ll have to finish later, if you’re all right to meet again.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I have time.”

  Briggs pushed the file into his tote bag and a photo slipped out, fluttering to the ground. Addison reached down and picked it up. Staring at it, she said, “What’s this?”

  Briggs leaned in. “Those two in the middle are the lead actor and actress in A Night in Rio.”

  “And the other two? The woman looks like Cecilia. Who’s the man?”

  “You’re right; it is Cecilia. The man is Lawrence Belle.”

  “It can’t be,” Addison said.

  “Can’t be what?”

  Addison held the photo closer, studying one of the men’s faces. “I’ve met Lawrence Belle. This isn’t him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “The man I met at the manor was my height. The guy in this photo is a lot taller.”

  “People do shrink with age.”

  “It’s not just the height. It’s his eyes. They’re ... I don’t know ... smaller. And his nose is more defined and pointy.”

  Addison thought back to her visit.

  The man she’d met at the manor said multiple times he wasn’t Lawrence Belle.

  But Cecilia had said he was her husband—the night she’d visited the manor in her spirit animal form.

  Addison had never seen his face that night, not all of it, but his voice was the same. She recognized it. She was certain.

  “I’ve spoken to Lawrence Belle on several occasions,” Briggs said. “And I can confirm, this is him.”

  If Briggs was right, if the man in the photo was Lawrence Belle, who the hell was living with Cecilia at Belle Manor?

  Ten minutes before midnight, Addison swallowed two tablets of ibuprofen and scolded herself for failing to stop at the drug store before she returned home to purchase something potent enough to assist with her persistent insomnia. But a pill wasn’t what she needed. She needed something more—resolution.

  To get it, she’d have to push a lot harder.

  She headed upstairs, closed the door to the red room, and sat on a tufted, black velvet sofa from the 1920s that had once belonged to her grandmother. She crossed one leg over the other, pressed her hands together, and
said, “Scarlett Whittaker, I invite you in.”

  Seconds went by.

  Nothing happened.

  She waited.

  Still nothing.

  She tried again.

  “Scarlett Whittaker, I summon you. Come through the light. Show yourself.”

  After another minute passed, Addison received her first answer of the evening. It was just as she suspected. Her attempts to beckon Scarlett had been in vain because Scarlett wasn’t in the earthly world anymore. She’d passed through to the light, and it was time for Sara to do the same.

  “Sara Belle, I command you to appear,” Addison said.

  A bright orb appeared in the corner of the room, its shape bending and expanding until Sara stepped out. She rubbed her eyes, took in her surroundings, and stuck her hand up at Addison.

  “Hi,” Sara said.

  “Would you like to go home?” Addison asked.

  “To Mommy and Daddy?”

  Addison shook her head. “No, sweetie. You need to leave here and move on.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

  “It’s all right,” Addison said. “I’ll help you. I just need you to do two things for me first.”

  Sara huffed and shook her head. “No. I ... I don’t want to go.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t like being by myself. It’s scary.”

  “You won’t be alone this time. You’ll see Scarlett, and your grandmother will be there.”

  Sara’s eyes widened. “Grannie JoJo? She’s there now?”

  “Not yet, but she will be. She’s been trying to find you so you can both go home.”

  Sara looked around. “Is she here? Where is she? Grannie JoJo?”

  “She’ll be here soon. I have to invite her to come here, and I will. I need you to answer a question for me first, okay?”

  Sara pressed her face into Mr. Pickles’ fur, speaking in a muffled voice.

  “Sara, please look at me,” Addison said. “I can’t understand what you’re saying. It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid this time. No matter what you say, I won’t be mad. You’re not in trouble.”

  Sara lifted her head just enough for one of her eyes to peep out.

  “I know what you want to ask,” Sara said. “I know it was wrong, but I took it.”