by Gerald Lopez
“Was the building at the end of the courtyard once an outdoor kitchen?” Alex said.”
“Yes it was,” Elise said. “It also served as servants’ quarters once upon a time. There’s a bedroom and bathroom in there which can still be used for guests.”
“Wow, it’s all just beyond incredible!” I said, not knowing what had gotten into me today to have me so worked up.
“Calm yourself, Layton,” Mrs. Carson said. “You’re beginning to sound like you’re falling for the place. You can’t be ‘falling’ for the old girl before you’ve discovered all her secrets.”
“I think it’s already too late,” I said, half to myself and half out loud.
“Well, I suppose that’s to be expected,” Mrs. Carson said.
“What do you mean by that?” I said. “Something is definitely going on here and I’d like to know what it is.”
“That was a strange thing to say, Grandma,” Elise said. “What’re you up to?”
“Nothing I care to talk about at the moment,” Mrs. Carson said. “Do your guts tell you I’m the enemy, Layton?”
“No,” I said. “Quite the opposite, in fact. “I think I trust you completely and feel like I’m right where I need to be. But I don’t know why I’d feel that way. There’s something I need to remember, but—”
“It’s alright, Detective,” Mrs. Carson said in a soothing voice which touched me to the core. “I remember, and that’s all that matters. Humor an old lady, even more than you already have, and bear with me. I’m not going out of my way to hide anything from you. But, this is something I need to do in the right way. All will be revealed very soon I promise. Can you trust me just a teeny bit longer?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said.
“I swear, I have no idea what’s going on,” Elise said.
“That’s OK,” Alex said. “Layton’s a detective—mysteries are his thing.”
“Yeah, which makes me feel like a dummy when I can’t remember something,” I said. Mrs. Carson leaned into me and looked up into my eyes. There was something so familiar there and it felt safe and warm.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Mrs. Carson said. “There are reasons why things seem familiar and yet unfamiliar. Time changes much, especially people.”
“Our meeting today wasn’t a coincidence, was it?” I said, as Mrs. Carson led me toward where my truck was parked.
“I don’t believe there are any coincidences in life,” Mrs. Carson said.
“Now I’m worried,” Elise said. “Grandma, did you plan to run into Layton and Alex at The Secret Garden?”
“Of course I did,” Mrs. Carson said. “I spotted them when they first came to town days ago and asked a couple of friends to let me know when they returned.”
“Grandma! What exactly is going on here?”
“Nothing devious,” Mrs. Carson said. “I’m just doing what your grandpa would have me do. Of course, being a man he could be far more forthright about it. That’s why what has to be said, must be said in front of him.”
“Oh, geez,” Elise said.
“We’re here,” Mrs. Carson said. “Time for you men to get your truck unpacked.”
Alex and I grabbed our laptops and a bag or two. Mrs. Carson held on to her granddaughter for support and we followed them to the back of the house. I looked up and noticed a large, stained glass window above the back porch on the second story.
“That’s a stunning stained glass window,” I said.
“It’s right over my bathtub,” Mrs. Carson said. “An artist from Aurora made it and he and his lovely fiancée installed it with Rory’s help. They are such a nice couple. He’s done other projects around the property for me as well.”
“They are really nice,” Elise said. “Both of them do a lot of work in the area. First I thought they were hippies, but they’re really not. The young woman is very smart and studied nursing.”
“Please don’t tell me the girl’s name is Charity,” Alex said. “Because that would be too much.”
“Oops,” Elise said. “Her name is Charity. She’s blonde and really pretty.”
“That has to be pure coincidence,” I said, looking at Mrs. Carson.
“Aurora has a lot of artists and Charity’s fiancé Linus, is one of the best,” Mrs. Carson said. “He does a lot of work in the area, making and installing stained glass, painting murals, even doing stonework.”
“Charity didn’t by any chance mention me, did she?” I said.
“No,” Mrs. Carson said. “But I haven’t heard from them for a couple of weeks. I know Linus is out of state taking lessons from an artist and Charity called to tell me she’d be visiting him. There isn’t a problem with either of them, is there?”
“No, Ma’am,” I said. “I’ll fill you in on how we know Charity later, for now we’d better get our things inside.”
Bags in hand, Alex and I went up the steps of the back porch, past a sunroom to the right and into a cool, dark hallway.
“Something smells good,” I said, then poked my head into the doorway of the kitchen to my left. “Mmm… is that pot roast I smell?”
“Yes it is,” Mrs. Carson said. “With potatoes and carrots. And for dessert there’s homemade caramel cake.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “When can I move in permanently?”
We heard the front door slam shut and the sound of someone running down the hall. It was Rory who was now dressed in khaki shorts, a tight green T-shirt, and flip-flops.
“Your guest is here, Mrs. Carson,” Rory said. “I was watering the plants out front when I saw her pull into the driveway behind the Jaguar.”
“Well, come on, everybody,” Mrs. Carson said. “Let’s go greet our guest. Alex, Layton just put your things in the dining room—they’ll be fine there for now. Layton, you might want to put something on your feet, so we can walk the writer woman to the guesthouse. She’ll be staying there with Elise. Oh, Elise, what is that young woman’s name? I keep forgetting it.”
“Shannon Henry, Grandma. Why don’t you and Rory go on ahead and we’ll catch up?”
“Alright,” Mrs. Carson said, taking Rory’s arm.
Elise took the strap of the computer bag that was slipping off my shoulder, opened two pocket doors with inset stained glass that were to our left and showed us into the dining room.
“Linus did the inset glass on these doors to match the original which had to be replaced,” Elise said. “He really is a talented artist. You can see the work of our other favorite artist above the buffet.
I placed my bags in a corner of the room then looked at a large photograph above the buffet. In the background were African huts and in front of one of the huts were various tribesmen, nude except for their headdresses. In the front and center of the line was Alex wearing nothing but a matching headdress.
“That truly is a talented artist,” I said.
“We think so,” Elise said. “Some visitors to the court find it shocking, but that’s their problem.”
“Hey, it’s my partner with everything on display in the picture and even I know it’s art,” I said. There was a heavily carved wooden chair next to the buffet which caught my eye. “Is that from Africa?”
“Yes it is,” Elise said. “I’m surprised Alex didn’t notice it first.”
“I was too focused on that,” Alex said, then pointed to a wooden statue that was sporting an enormous erection. The wood on the erection was shinier than elsewhere on the body.
“That’s some sort of African fertility statue,” Elise said. “I’ll let Grandma tell you about all these things when she gives you the grand tour.”
“And she honestly didn’t tell you about arranging to meet us at the tea house,” Alex said.
“No, sorry,” Elise said. “I really and truly have no idea what she’s up to… but I’m anxious to find out.”
“Oh, she won’t tell us a word until she’s ready,” I said. “That woman’s smooth. Shall we go greet the new guest.”
“Don’t f
orget to put on some shoes,” Alex said.
“Your sandals or flip-flops will do,” Elise said.
WITH MY feet safely ensconced in my flip-flops, I’d retrieved from the overnight bag I’d brought inside, I followed Elise and Alex outside. We met up with Mrs. Carson, Rory and the new guest in the back courtyard. The woman was slim with dark—almost ebony skin. She wore slim beige pants, beige flats, and a red short-sleeved shirt. Her hair was done in cornrows close to her scalp and about even with her chin in back. She was elegant and with her high cheekbones, small breasts, almond-shaped brown eyes, and full lips she could easily be a model. There was a purse over one of her shoulders and a computer bag hanging from her other shoulder. Rory had an overnight bag’s strap hanging over his shoulder and was holding the handle of a large roll around suitcase, both things presumably belonged to the guest.
Mrs. Carson had one arm around the guest’s arm and a bouquet of flowers in her hand.
“Everyone, this is our guest Ms. Shannon Henry,” Mrs. Carson said. “She was nice enough to bring me a bouquet of flowers.”
Shannon smiled, clearly pleased to be here. “You have so many beautiful flowers on your property already, Mrs. Carson, that it’s sort of like gilding the lily.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Carson said. “The flowers you brought are gorgeous and I love them.”
“We would’ve brought some too if you’d let us know we were coming ahead of time,” I said, cheekily.
“If I would’ve told you things ahead of time, you wouldn’t have stopped for tea,” Mrs. Carson said.
I tried to be concerned, but a smile involuntarily formed on my lips. Just roll with things, I told myself. All will become clear in time.
“Shannon, you’ve already met our resident naughty boy Rory,” Mrs. Carson said. “The other handsome men in our presence are Layton Shayne and his partner Alex Shayne.”
Smart of her not to mention I was a detective, I thought.
“It’s nice to see you again too, Elise—I’m loving the pink hair,” Shannon said, then turned toward me. “I’m quite familiar with your work, Detective Shayne. And I might add, I’m a huge fan.”
“Well, thank you,” I said. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage, Shannon. I’m not acquainted with your work. And I’m not exactly sure why you’d be familiar with what it is I do.”
“Nor should you be—acquainted with my work that is,” Shannon said. “In answer to your second question—you, Alex, and I all do freelance work for the same organization.”
“I see,” I said. “And are you here on behalf of said organization right now.”
“No, I’m not. I’m freelancing at present, as I’m sure you must be.”
“I’m beginning to think I’m not sure what I’m doing,” I said.
Chapter 6
Getting to Know You
I WAS LAST in our small group as we walked to the left side of the property, but when we arrived at the Indian pavilion Shannon said something that I was grateful to hear.
“Mrs. Carson, this area is so lovely. Do you mind if I stay a moment to look around the pavilion?”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Carson said. “It’s one of my favorite spots. Sit a while and catch up with us later. I’m sure Layton wouldn’t mind keeping you company.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I said, then put on my most grateful smile for Mrs. Carson.
Shannon and I walked up to the open doorway of the brick outbuilding, and I pushed aside the sheer, orange, ornately trimmed curtains so Shannon could walk inside.
“Thank you, kindly,” Shannon said.
Once inside, we both looked around the space. The walls were plaster and the floor cement, but there was an Indian rug in the center of the room with a small table and two chairs on top of it. Against one wall was a single size, wooden, Indian daybed with sheer red curtains on either side of it. Shannon sat on it, crossed her legs, and leaned back.
“Now you really look like a queen,” I said.
“You are a flatterer, Layton,” Shannon said, then smoothly changed the subject. “It’s pure coincidence that we’re both here, but you only have my word on it.”
“Maybe that’s good enough for me,” I said, turning a chair around so I could sit in it and face her. “I love this place and I’ve only just arrived.”
“You walk around as if you’re in your environment, Layton. The way you moved that chair just now was as if you owned it and weren’t just a guest.”
“This is a strange situation,” I said. “But it doesn’t feel like a bad one to me. Are you really a writer?”
“Yes,” Shannon said, then sat up and smiled. “I focus on the paranormal. My father was a researcher for the organization, not a field agent like you. Oftentimes, I accompanied my father when he went out in the field to do research. The work he did was fascinating and I felt someone needed to make note of it all. He’s retired now—my father, along with my mother. I’m not officially working for the organization but more freelance as I mentioned.”
“Fascinating,” I said, genuinely intrigued. “Did you do freelance work for the organization regarding me and what I do for them?”
“I was part of a team sent out to document what occurred in Shelby with the blue light and the cult. But I was low player on the totem pole there. I was part of a three person team when you had to deal with zombies on your last case. We needed a man to get into the gay nudist campground where you stayed.”
“You have been with me on my journey with the organization, Shannon. And here you are again.”
“Yes… but, don’t worry, I’m not exactly following you, Layton. I’ve been doing research on Carson Court for quite some time. And since I was already in the area covering your zombie adventure I decided to stop by here.”
“Did I come across well in your account of the green-eyed lady statues and the zombies?” I said, then grinned.
“You came across as handsome, smart, and heroic as you did in my account of what happened at Shelby. And before you ask, you came across very well indeed in both my accounts.”
“Well, thank you very much for that.”
“Military men have a way about them, especially Marines. I came across all types when I traveled with my father. Men who had some sort of military training were always the most impressive.”
“Again, thank you for your kind comments… and for letting me know who you were right off the bat,” I said. “You didn’t owe me that.”
“No, but I figured you’d have enough on your plate here without worrying about me. Besides, maybe we can be of assistance to each other in regard to what happened in this place.”
“What exactly did happen here and what’s your interest in Carson Court?” I said.
“I do love the way a detective’s mind works… so inquisitive,” Shannon said. “I had a relative who worked here in the fifties. He was accused of doing some very bad things—falsely accused some say.”
“And others say?”
“Others say ghosts were involved or spirits… and some people say my relative was set up to take the fall for someone else. It would’ve been easy in those days to pin a crime on a black man.”
“I’m sure it would’ve been, Shannon. Are you here with a point of view to prove, or to find out the truth?”
“I prefer truth to fairy tales any day,” Shannon said.
“Ah, but sometimes life can be a fairy tale come true,” Mrs. Carson said, as she entered the building from the back doorway while leaning on her granddaughter. “I remember your great uncle Edmond, Shannon. He was a harsh man to your cousin Frederick. Whether or not Edmond did what they accused him of I don’t know… but I don’t doubt your uncle was capable of murder. On multiple occasions I’d seen him beat people for no good reason.”
“Did he beat my cousin?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Carson said. “And he didn’t care who was around to see him do it. Frederick never measured up in Edmond’s eyes and Frederick was well aware of that.”
“We put your things in the guest bedroom of the cottage, Shannon,” Elise said.
“Then I think it’s time I escorted Shannon to her new digs,” I said, then stood and offered Shannon a hand up.
We left the comfortable Indian pavilion and walked along the trail under the shade of the overhanging trees until we got to a one-story brick cottage. Alex was taking pictures outside with Lucky Tuck at his heels. Rory was leaning against the wall by the front door.
“Have I mentioned how much I love all the brick used in this place?” I said to Mrs. Carson, who’d taken my arm when we left the Indian pavilion.
“Yes, and the brick does look nice,” Mrs. Carson said. “The main house and outbuildings have been well cared for and kept up. All of the plumbing was replaced two years ago. And the pump that services the well was also replaced.”
“Grandma, you’re starting to sound like a Realtor,” Elise said.
The rest of us laughed and Mrs. Carson shrugged us off with a wave of her hand.
“Oh pishposh, whatever,” Mrs. Carson said. “This is where I would live.” She opened the cottage door.
“I’ve heard that phrase ‘pishposh’ before, You know,” I said. “When I was with my group of soldier boys in England.” Alex looked at me and smiled. He’d heard all about my time in England and how much it had meant to me.
We walked into a modern, brightly lit living room which opened into a compact but nicely setup kitchen and eating area. Glass doors led to an outdoor patio just past the kitchen.
“I like how clean, simple, and modern this space is—and two bedrooms are all I need,” Mrs. Carson said. “The main house doesn’t feel cozy or comfortable anymore. And, I know your mother thinks it’s too much for an old lady like me to handle, Elise.”
“Grandma, don’t listen to Momma,” Elise said.
“Yeah, she’s a bitch,” Rory said. “No offense.”
“She’s my daughter and even I have to admit what you said isn’t a lie,” Mrs. Carson said. “But what my daughter said is no lie either. We did have some grand parties and fun times at the court, though.”