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Mary opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit entranceway. A musty stale smell mingled with artificial berries from an air freshener, causing her to wrinkle her nose.
“I will need to open some drapes,” Mary said, looking for the light switch. When she found it, she flipped it on and let out a gasp when muted light from a crystal chandelier filled the space. “Oh my, this place is magnificent. A little dark but—” Mary could not find the words to explain the grandiose sight. Large paintings of people and animals hung on the walls, big blocky furniture took up floor space, and paisley patterned carpet stretched from wall to wall.
Mary walked further into the entrance hall, toward the staircase, halfway down on the left. “It’s going to take me a while to learn the layout of the place.”
Eddie walked up next to her. “I briefly looked over the layout of the mansion. The room to the left is the reception room, and that’s a bathroom next to it. And to the right is the drawing-room; and next to it is the library. Past the staircase, the door on the left leads to the dining room, a sitting room, and the kitchen. And the other door goes to a passage that leads to another staircase that the servants used.”
“Oh, Pickles, we’re going to love it here.” Mary looked down, expecting to see the dog near her feet, but he was not there. “Pickles, where are you?”
“He’s still on the porch,” Moose said, setting the tub next to the door. “I think he’s afraid to come inside.”
Mary sat the keys on an entryway table and looked out the open door. “Oh, Pickles, you’re shaking.” She walked onto the porch, picked up the trembling pooch, and went back inside. “He’s just not used to our new home.”
“Dogs can sense things,” Moose said. “Even I’ll start shaking if I think too much about this place.”
“Hogwash, Moose. It’s as Mary said, it’s a place that the dog has not gotten used to, yet,” Eddie said, walking toward the library. “But what I’m hoping is that Mr. McMaster used the library as a study because I didn’t see a specific room labeled as such.”
Mary held Pickles tight, stroking his head. “That would make sense. A bedroom could serve as an office, too. But it wasn’t like he had a shortage of space.”
Eddie opened the closed library and switched on the light. He stepped aside as Mary walked in behind him.
“Oh, my,” Mary said, bringing a hand to her mouth. “This is a magnificent library. Look at all the books; shelves and shelves of wonderful books. I can’t wait to go through them.” She sat Pickles on the floor and walked up to a bookcase loaded with dust-covered cloth and leather hardbound reading material; floor to ceiling. “I know what I’ll be doing this evening.”
Eddie walked to the desk along the wall across from the fireplace. He set his briefcase on the desktop before opening the drapes of a nearby window. “Look, Mary, you have a wonderful cottage garden just outside the library.
Mary sat the musty book she had plucked off a shelf back where she had gotten it and walked next to Eddie. “It is lovely. Look Pickles, lots of pretty flowers that you can dig around in.” She looked around for Pickles, finding him with his snout against the glass-paned door leading out into the garden.
“Looks like he wants outside,” Moose said, walking up to the French door. “Mind if I let him out?”
“No, not at all.”
Moose unlocked the door. The minute he opened it, Pickles shot out and at once ran up to a decommissioned water fountain of a woman with a bucket in her hand pouring air instead of circulating water. He began digging into last year’s spent zinnias, matted on the ground next to this season’s new green shoots. “Looks like Pickles is making himself at home.”
“Indeed he is,” Mary said, smiling. “I believe I will want to stay here. Eddie, could you let Mr. Stine know my decision?”
“Sure can, Mary, but you should check the rest of the mansion, first. I’m sure it’s all fine but if there’s a problem you might want to delay your move.”
Moose sat down the monkey see, monkey do figurine he was looking at and blurted out, “Like a dead body.”
“No, Moose,” Eddie said, unlatching his briefcase. “Like plumbing or heating problems, not corpses.”
“There better not be any corpses in the house,” Mary said with a giggle as she left the door to the garden partway open for Pickles to enter when he finished excavating.
Moose went to the window and watched Pickles flinging dirt and flower stems. “Some say there are bodies buried here—someplace. At least two of ‘em because they came up missing a few decades ago.” He turned and looked at Mary who was staring back. “Your relatives I suspect because they were Horace McMaster’s parents. Some say Horace himself offed them for the money, but I don’t think so because he already had access to all the money he wanted. Others say Horace was crazy in the head and he did a Lizzy Borden whack job on them and hid the bodies.”
Eddie slapped a stack of papers on the desktop. “Moose, you’re scaring Mary. Do you really have to keep mentioning these tall tales of yours? From what I read, their boat capsized in rough water between here and the mainland; unfortunately, their bodies were lost in the storm.”
Moose joined them at the desk. “You’re right, Mr. Winters, that’s the official record.”
Eddie handed Mary a sealed manila envelope with her name handwritten with a flourish of inked swirls. “Is this from my great uncle?”
“It is,” Eddie said. “I don’t know what’s inside it, but the rest of these papers are things that Mr. Stine and I found during our research, like the mansion floor plan and some of your family tree, he said, straightening the stack.
Mary sat the envelope on the desktop. “I think I should look at the rest of the house before I go through the paperwork.” A wet sneeze from Pickles caught Mary’s attention. She watched him walk through the library’s half-opened door and up to her where he promptly shook particles of black dirt and pieces of dry leaves from his body, scattering them over the hardwood floor and Mary’s plain black shoes.
Moose laughed. “Looks like Pickles has you cleaning the place already.”
“Pickles is a little trouble maker, but I love him nonetheless.” Mary bent down and patted the pug’s dirty head. “Now I’ll have to find the broom and dustpan.”
Eddie closed his briefcase. “We’ll look for it when we tour the rest of the estate. So far, everything looks to be in good condition.”
“I’ll bring in the rest of your belongings, Mary, while you and the lawyer check out the rest of the place,” Moose said.
“Thank you, Moose. I can tell already that your help will be indispensable—with or without the Simmons.”
“Yes, ma’am. But don’t forget about Madisyn,” Moose said, walking to the desk. “If you have a paper and pen handy, I’ll write down her phone number and you can give her a call when you get a chance. I think the two of you will get along just fine.”
“Write her number on the calendar blotter; on today's date,” Mary said. She glanced at a few of the items that her great-uncle had written down. Horace’s handwriting was difficult to read but she could make out the electric bill and a note to call someone. She would examine it more closely later when she had time.
Moose scribbled Madisyn’s name and number on June sixth in big letters and numbers. “Make sure you call her, if you like, she’s always admired the place. She would ride with me when she was younger to help carry things that the Simmons needed. She hasn’t been here in a few years. She loves history and art and this place would help her delve into Anisteem’s past. She could even paint a picture of the estate for you. She’s very good at paintings.” Moose pulled a cellphone from the pocket of his khaki shorts, did a few swipes and held up the face of it so that Mary could see the picture of his pretty young niece, all smiles, standing next to a painting of a turn of the century farmhouse sitting next to a red barn with a cow standing in the open doors, surrounded by a pasture of tall green corn. “This is Madisyn when she came in second place in Anisteem’s annual art competition.”
Mary adjusted her glasses. “It’s lovely, and your niece has such long blonde hair. I will be giving her a call to help out around here. Would she mind living on the estate? It would be too much trouble taking a boat back and forth every day.”
“I don’t think that would be a problem at all.”
Eddie motioned for the library door. “Are you ready to inspect the rest of the estate, Mary?”
Mary smiled. “I am. Come on, Pickles. Follow us and please stay out of trouble.”
Pickles trotted after them as they walked into the entrance hall. Moose went out to the Daisy Dancer to bring in the rest of the luggage while Mary and Eddie did a quick walk-through of the reception room and the drawing room. Both still held all of Horace’s furniture, down to a cigar box sitting on the fireplace mantel.
“Is all the furniture and my great uncle’s belongings mine now, too?” Mary asked, opening the lid of the cigar box. She took out a cigar and examined it.
“Yes, everything here is yours,” Eddie said.
Mary sniffed the brown cigar. “Smells like wet soil.” She put it back in the box. “You can have these filthy things if you want them.”
“No, ma’am. You can keep them.”
“Maybe Moose will want them.”
“Let’s check the bathroom and make sure it is in working order,” Eddie said, walking out of the drawing room. “I’m told the plumbing is fine, but we’d better check it anyway. You don’t want leaking pipes and cold water.”
“You’re right about that,” Mary said, following Eddie to the bathroom between the reception room and the staircase.
Eddie turned on the water and flushed the toilet. “The water is hot and the toilet flushes fine. I suspect the kitchen will be in the same condition.”
“I suspect you will be right.”
They walked past the stairway and through a door that led to the dining room. A large wooden dining table sat majestically in the center of the room with a crystal chandelier above it.
“I wonder how many important people have sat around this table. It looks like it’s fit for a monarch,” Mary said, admiring the regal atmosphere.
“I have no idea but maybe that Madisyn can tell you if you decide to hire her.”
They walked through another door which led into the sitting room.
“There’s certainly no shortage of fireplaces around here, but where is the kitchen?”
“I believe we go through there,” Eddie said, pointing to another door.
It led into a passage and through another door that opened into the large kitchen.
“Not the most convenient location,” Mary said. “But I suppose they like to keep it separate in case of fire, or some such thing.”
“This end of the house,” Eddie said, walking to yet another door, “and this separate staircase is where the servants lived and worked. Their bedrooms are upstairs on the second floor.”
“I see,” Mary said, walking up to the refrigerator. She looked inside. “Must be the Simmons cleaned it out before they left, I don’t even see a bottle of ketchup.”
“Like I said, Mr. Stine sent some food for you. Moose should be bringing it in.”
“I certainly appreciate Mr. Stine’s generosity.”
“He can be a little gruff at times, but he does have a big heart.”
Pickles sniffed along the floor until he found something to eat; it crunched between his teeth.
“Don’t eat that Pickles,” Mary said, picking him up to see what he had in his mouth. He swallowed before she could see what it was. “Argh, you darn dog. That could’ve been old nasty food or even rat poison.”
“I vote for old nasty food,” Eddie said, opening the pantry door. “Hey, there’s canned food in here. Not so sure I’d eat it, though.”
“Quite right,” Mary said, looking inside the small room with wall-to-wall shelves. She took down a glass jar of canned peaches. She looked at a sticker on the side. “The Simmons even did their own canning and these peaches haven’t expired.”
“Eat them at your own risk,” Eddie said, watching Pickles follow his nose as he continued to explore the outdated tile floor.
Mary sat the peaches back on the shelf next to other canned fruits. “I’ll have to think about it because I’m sure they’re delicious.”
“Or a vessel to dispense botulism.”
Mary giggled. “Let’s check the servants living quarters.”
They walked through the open door at the far end of the kitchen leading to a smaller staircase than the one in the grand entrance hall.
Eddie tested the door that led into the backyard at the foot of the stairs. “It’s secure, but I’d change the locks soon. I can make arrangements for that to be done if you like; you never know who has keys to this place. You are isolated and alone out here—that’s not very comforting. Help can’t get here so easily and there are a lot of crazy people out there.”
“Good thinking, Eddie, but my great uncle doesn’t seem like the type to be handing out keys to people.”
“The Simmons could make copies of the keys; they haven’t turned in their keys unless they left them in the cottage; we’ll have to check that.”
Mary shook her head. “I doubt it. They sound like such nice people. I mean, they stuck around to help my dying great uncle, something no one else did.”
“But you don’t know them. You’ve never even met them. You’re too trusting, Mary.”
“Not necessarily.” Mary shrugged and followed Eddie up the narrow staircase to the second floor. The steps creaked beneath their feet. When they got to the top, Pickles was still at the bottom landing. “Pickles, you can come up here. Come on, it’s okay,” Mary said, tapping her thigh.
Pickles whined and then laid down, setting his chin on his front paws.
“I don’t think he’s budging,” Eddie said, walking into the first bedroom. He opened a curtain and peered into the backyard. “Moose’s niece can help you with the indoor chores, but you might need the Simmons—if they’ll come back—to take care of that huge yard for you. This is a big place for one person to manage.”
“We’ll see what happens. I might let it all grow to weeds; what does it really matter?” Mary walked back into the hall, past a bathroom, and into the other bedroom. There was nothing special about the rooms; a full bed with what appeared to be a hand-sewn quilt spread over top, a small fireplace, and a simple desk and chair. She walked back into the hall and looked at the staircase to her right. “These stairs only go up to the third floor.”
“That’s typical for servants’ quarters of the time. It keeps everyone separate. According to the blueprints, this staircase only allows access to the third-floor where there are more rooms for the staff, but no access to the rest of the house. Let’s check it out.”
Mary yelped when she heard a scratching sound.
Eddie stopped a couple steps up and looked back. “Are you alright?”
“I just heard a mouse, or God forbid a rat.” Then she gasped. “What is that?”
On the wall, next to the steps was a handmade doll the size of the stiff fibers at the end of a broomstick. Roughly tacked material wrapped unfamiliar dried plant stems, forming the arms and legs. Its head, also covered with cloth, hung forward like that of a criminal having been hung at the gallows. “That is some ugly doll. Who would display such an object on a wall?”
Eddie stepped down a couple steps to look. “You’re right, it is ugly. It reminds me of a voodoo doll.”
Mary wrinkled her nose. “It also has a rather pungent odor. I don’t like it.” She reached up and yanked the doll from the wall nail that was stuck in its back and laid it on the desktop in the second bedroom. “I’ll throw it out later.”