Mysteries of Billamore Hall Box Set

by B J Richards

  “What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you until much later,” Josephine said as she opened the door.

  Nathaniel dragged her into his arms and kissed her, his dark moustache gently tickling her lip. “I missed you and couldn't wait.” He broke the kiss and waved to Sandra. “What's up Peterson?”

  “Hey, Nate. Care for some pizza?” Sandra motioned to the already half-eaten dinner. The three had been close friends since middle school. It had taken some special intervention on Sandra's part to get Nathaniel to tell Josephine how he felt about her. Sandra considered it her greatest achievement… to get two people together who were head over heels for each other.

  “Just a slice. Saving the space for dinner,” Nathaniel replied, before going over to give Sandra a bear hug. “So, what are you two doing?”

  “We're researching ghost stories. Sandra's life is interesting for once,” Josephine quipped with so much excitement on her face she could hardly stand it. Nathaniel obligingly raised an eyebrow and looked at her sideways, wondering what he was going to hear next.

  “Ghosts? What are you talking about?”

  “There are ghosts at the museum!” Josephine exclaimed like a two-year-old.

  “And with that, I'll take my leave,” Sandra said, picking up her purse.

  “Oh, don't leave. Or at least drop the diary, I'll tell you if I read anything interesting.”

  “That works,” Sandra said dropping the diary on the coffee table and hugging them both good-bye. Truth be told, she was fine with heading home for a hot bath and soaking some of this crazy day away.

  Sandra smiled to herself. Poor Nate. Jo will bend his ear for the next hour with ecstatic ghost stories.

  Finally, the day was mellowing out after the day’s surreal encounters. Getting into her car, Sandra put on her favorite radio station and let her mind stop spinning. She felt so much better after curling up with Josephine.

  Everyone has a day that’s a freak show. Today was mine.

  And right now, she just wanted to put it all behind her. Tomorrow she needed to be at the museum bright and early to greet the cleaning crew and make sure the museum was ready to open by Monday.

  She didn't know what she would do with the painting, though. Leave it in the basement and try her best to pretend it didn't exist? Thoughts drifted aimlessly through her mind as she contemplated her options.

  BAM! Then again, BAM!

  The car swerved erratically from the impact, the steering wheel now ripped from her hands. Her small sports car careened wildly across the road as she struggled to bring it back under control.

  BAM! BAM!

  Someone was deliberately hitting her rear bumper on the driver’s side, trying to force her off the road and down the ravine.

  Panic now engulfed her but somehow she held on, everything becoming a blur in her mind. The adrenaline poured through her and instinct took over. Without even thinking, she hit the gas pedal and floored it like she’d never done before.

  The power of her Mercedes sports engine kicked into gear. She could feel the tires dig in and throw the gravel from the shoulder of the road, narrowly missing the edge of the cliff.

  The pavement back under her tires, the full potential of German engineering displayed its best and she roared ahead, the big clumsy truck that had hit her, unable to keep up.

  Just go, get out of here. The words kept repeating themselves in her head. The glow of his headlights grew smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror behind her. All she wanted to do was get home where she could lock the door and try to feel safe. She couldn’t deny it. This was no accident. Someone just tried to kill her.

  Chapter Five

  Thank God, I’m home. A wave of relief swept through Sandra just seeing her townhouse come into view. The fear of almost being murdered-curator-number-four, hung over her in spite of her efforts to let it go.

  Still unsettled, she put the key in the door, wanting to get inside and feel security surrounding her again.

  Everything will be fine. I’ll lock myself in and call Jo and Nate. Nate will know what to do.

  Aware she was still a bit shaky, she managed to unlock the front door. And then she saw them. Big dirty footprints on her freshly cleaned wooden floors. Panic and stress were rampant in her nervous system by now. But this time she was angry. First they try to kill me and now this? Without thinking she rushed in.

  The flower arrangement that had been on the coffee table was strewn across the floor and pieces of the shattered vase lay alongside the flowers with yesterday’s mail. The kitchen cupboards and drawers were open, their contents scattered and laying around everywhere.

  She rushed up the stairs. The bedroom was no better. Dresser drawers were pulled out and clothing was thrown about. The more she saw, the angrier she got. Chaos was everywhere. They’d invaded her home and trashed everything.

  Finally, she realized she never should’ve walked in there alone. At this point it was obvious they were no longer there. Going back downstairs, she locked the front door and called Nathaniel, shaking so badly from the rage she could barely dial the phone.

  “Hey, gotten home?” he said into the phone, before she had a chance to say anything. She could hear the sound of Josephine's voice in the background, raving on about how plausible ghost stories were.

  “Yes. Can you come over please? Someone broke into my house,” she said in a voice Nathaniel knew was unlike her.

  “Did they take anything?”

  “No... I don't know.” She looked around at the mess, unable to confirm anything.

  “Okay, I'm on my way.”

  Sandra checked the locks again to make sure everything was bolted down. Even though it was only a few minutes, it felt as if an eternity had gone by before she heard a police car pull up to the front of her townhouse. She peeked through the window and saw Nathaniel had another officer with him. She couldn’t unlock the door fast enough to let them in.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Nathaniel held her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.

  “I don't know.” She shook her head, unable to even think at this point. Nathaniel pulled her into his biggest bear hug. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Actually, the attack started before I got here. Someone rammed my car and almost ran me into the ravine on my way home. And then I walked in and saw this.” She motioned to the ransacked townhouse, more livid than scared.

  “Did you see the plate number of the car that hit you?” The other officer, who had introduced himself as Officer Nelson, was taking notes for the report.

  “No, I didn't. But it was a red truck. And it wasn't an accident. The driver hit me several times, so it was intentional.”

  “I don’t suppose you got a good look at the driver?” Nathaniel asked this time.

  “No. I was busy trying not to get killed.”

  Nathaniel didn’t miss the sarcastic tone and temper about to flare. He continued, trying to be as comforting as he could. “I don't think whoever came here found what they were looking for. They’ve turned the whole place upside down. If they’d found what they wanted, they would’ve stopped and not bothered looking any further.”

  “Good. I’m glad they left empty-handed.” Sandra was still mad.

  “It would be better if they had. I'm afraid they may be back. But one thing is clear; you need a better security system. I'll take care of it myself.”

  Nathaniel stood and walked over to check her door. Then he and Officer Nelson checked the perimeter to make sure there was no one left lurking about.

  After dismissing the other officer, he called Josephine to tell her what had happened. Sandra could hear him telling her to pack a bag and stop by his place for some of his things also. They were going to sleep over at Sandra's tonight.

  Calm started to seep in once she realized she wouldn’t be alone tonight. After the day she’d had, and then finding her home was invaded... she really needed them.

  “Jo was telling me about a pendant issue?
Could that be what the intruders were looking for?”

  Sandra paused before replying. “But why would anyone want my grandmother's pendant? This all makes no sense. That painting was in a hidden hallway in the basement at the museum. I just found it today. I also just found out today about the woman in the diary being some long-lost cousin. At this point we have no idea who either of these women are. This is all just so weird. And, all of a sudden, a lot of weird things have been happening where that pendant is concerned.” Sandra was pacing the floor at this point. It helped her think to keep moving.

  “What do you mean?” Nathaniel’s police training kicked in again. He needed to know all the details and Sandra knew it. No holding back now.

  Sandra took a deep breath and let out a big sigh. “Okay, here it is. Just don’t look at me like I’m crazy.” She spent the next thirty minutes filling him in on the all the eccentric details, including what happened when she put the necklace on and looked into the mirror.

  “Yeah, okay, that's weird,” Nathaniel agreed. Sandra could tell he believed her. “But what's more important is keeping you safe till we get to the bottom of this. Who has the pendant now?”

  “It’s at my grandmother’s where it’s always been... in the safe.”

  “Good,” Nathaniel nodded. His mind raced to the thought of Mrs. Peterson getting mugged, but didn't want to voice it to Sandra. Nonetheless, he was silently assigning a detail to patrol Abigail Peterson's home until this was resolved. And the pendant was only a theory. For all they knew, the intruders could have been after other things. Maybe people were angry the museum was going to be re-opened so soon. After all, the murders of the last three curators were still unsolved. But Nathaniel kept these theories to himself and started helping her put things back in order.

  The townhouse was yet to return to its former glory when Josephine flew in the door. “Oh, my God, who would do this? I'm so sorry, Sandra.” Side-stepping over the broken glass, she gave her a big hug and tucked the disheveled strand of brown hair behind her best friend's ear.

  “Thanks, Jo,” was all Sandra could get out.

  “And don’t worry about this mess. We’ll work together until it’s cleaned up.”

  * * *

  An hour later, they all sat on the couch, eating the Chinese they’d had delivered.

  “I'm sorry for ruining your date, guys,” Sandra apologized.

  “Are you kidding? Pajama date is the best,” Josephine said and Sandra laughed.

  “Okay, time to continue reading from this diary.” Josephine reached for the diary, eager to continue on from where they’d left off.

  “Are you sure Nate wants to sit through a dead woman's diary?” Sandra asked, raising a brow in mockery.

  “Nate is a skeptic, but he loves me.”

  “Yes, I do my lady's bidding,” Nathaniel concurred and winked, which made Josephine blush. After so many years, their ability to still be crazy in love like teenagers always amazed Sandra.

  “Okay then. Let's hear it,” Sandra said, feeling much better now that her home was livable again. Josephine cleared her throat in a dramatic manner before she began where they had left off.

  “January 4, 1877. Today Philip asked me to marry him...”

  “What? Back up. The last thing we read, wasn't she heartbroken her parents died and planning to move in with the Rogers?” Sandra asked.

  “Yeah, but nothing interesting happened since then. She moved in, and your great grandma moved out to be married to a Mr. Matthews.”

  “You read some already?”

  “Yeah. She read some to me before I came,” Nathaniel chimed in. “But last I heard, Annabel was falling in love with Philip Billamore. She would take lunch to her uncle who worked on the docks at the Billamore’s shipping yard. That’s how she met Philip. They fell madly in love, but she had a feeling his family didn't approve of their relationship.”

  “Ah, I see. I still feel betrayed though, but continue.” Sandra feigned her fake hurt look.

  Josephine reached over and gave Sandra a loud dramatic kiss on the cheek. “Forgive me?” she asked, putting on her best pouty face. Sandra just laughed and nudged her with her elbow.

  “I think she has. Continue,” Nathaniel suggested, and Josephine obliged.

  “Today Philip asked me to marry him, and I said yes. I am beyond excited to be his wife. I cannot wait to start our new life together. He also gave me a necklace with a beautiful pendant on it. I have a suspicion he had the necklace made in Paris the last time he traveled there. I have never seen anything quite like it. Philip says it is for me to treasure, as he has treasured me. I am more than flattered by such words. Tomorrow we go to a painter and have my portrait done in preparation for the wedding. The artist is a gentleman by the name of Benjamin Carrigan. He is only in town until the summer, so time is of the essence.”

  Josephine stopped reading and looked directly at Sandra, grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

  “It can't be... no way!” The excitement in Sandra's voice was tangible now.

  “Am I missing something here?” Nathaniel asked looking from one of them to the other.

  “The woman in the painting is Annabel Carson!” they both exclaimed in unison.

  Chapter Six

  Sandra arrived at the museum on Monday with mixed feelings. The events of the weekend had dampened her excitement, what with almost being killed and her house being trashed and burglarized.

  On the other hand, she was fascinated with the discovery that Annabel Carson, the woman in the painting, was her distant cousin. And Josephine's theory about how Annabel must've chosen her, danced in her head. But whatever the reason was, it was still unknown. There was nothing in the diary they’d found to answer that.

  “Hey, Patrick,” she greeted the security man, before entering the building. Pausing in the hallway, she expected to feel what she now called the Annabel sensation, but she felt nothing. Gazing at the gigantic statue in the reception hall once more, she decided to leave it where it was. At least for now. At this point, she was getting used to its presence greeting her.

  Her new assistant, Barbara, waved at her. “Where do you want these, Ms. Peterson?”

  Barbara showed her two wooden sculptures of rare wild birds. While admiring the birds in Barbara's hands, a disturbing thought crossed her mind. What if they had ghosts, too? Refusing to let herself get carried away, she replied, “Those you can display in the East Gallery. And you can call me Sandra.”

  As Barbara walked away, she noticed two young men walking toward the museum; for the first time, she was excited. They weren’t really what she was hoping for as far as museum patrons. Both looked rather unkempt and a little rough around the edges, but visitors were visitors. And everyone was certainly welcome. She quickly spun around on her beige patent-leather pumps and headed toward the main entrance to welcome them to Billamore Hall.

  Splat!

  She stopped dead in her tracks. They weren't patrons at all. They were vandals.

  One of them started throwing eggs at the entrance door. Enraged, she watched the security officer chase after him. With the security officer busy chasing after the younger-looking one, what appeared to be the elder, brought out a bucket of red paint and a paint brush.

  Murderers… Murder house… Evil… he managed to write before security came running back.

  “What should we do, Ms. Peterson?” Barbara asked, now standing beside Sandra in the Main Hall.

  Sandra was too weak to correct her this time. “Call the police.” Disappointment and fury rang through those three simple words. Reality was sinking in. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Let me know when they get here.”

  She turned abruptly and headed toward the basement staircase. She needed to get out of her assistant’s view. At least in the basement, she could quietly rant and rave without anyone noticing. “What was I thinking? Did I really think I could do this? What if those two were the men who broke
into my apartment? Or tried to murder me?”

  The whispered screams of her rant continued as she paced back and forth, erratically running her fingers through her previously perfect coif as her mind threw itself into every possible traumatic scenario it could think of.

  Clack! Clang! The paintings were falling down everywhere around her.

  Startled, she stopped her self-inflected tantrum. “What the?” She wasn’t touching anything! The paintings that were stacked against the walls continued to fall and tip over. And then it sunk in. This was Annabel.

  “You can stop now, Annabel,” she said in a clear, commanding voice. The clatter of falling paintings stopped at once.

  Sandra took in a deep breath, surprised that had work. “Thank you, Annabel. Look I don't know why you've been visiting me or whatever you're doing. I know you’re angry, I just don’t know what you want from me. If you can throw paintings around, maybe you could just write out your grievances so I know how to help you.”

  I can’t believe I’m talking to a ghost. But evidently it worked… at least for now.

  She looked around the room in no particular direction, as if waiting for some kind of reply. “Now I must really be crazy. As if a ghost is going to take up paper and pen and write me a note… ha!”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Peterson. There’s a visitor waiting for you in the Main Hall.” Barbara was standing on the basement steps behind her.

  “Yes, thank you... I'll be right there,” Sandra said trying to hide her embarrassment.

  Great. Wonder how much of that little tantrum she was privy to. She reproached herself and rolled her eyes. She probably thinks she's working for a lunatic now. Too bad that girl doesn’t wear a heel that makes noise when she walks. At least I'd have a warning when she’s around.

  Sandra straightened her beige A-Line skirt and climbed the stairs with as much dignity as the moment would allow. If the person waiting for her upstairs had any idea she’d just been talking to a ghost, that would be the end of her employment as Curator. Hopefully it isn’t anyone important.