Mary Had a Little Scare Page 10

  Betty smiled. “You really think I’m brilliant?” she asked.

  “Very brilliant,” Mary promised.

  Betty’s smile widened and then quickly faded away as a frown took control of her face. “Brilliant or not, we’re still trapped in a very dangerous night, Mary, and I sure don’t know how to escape. While it’s true my train of thought may have traveled me down the right road…well, I’m still very much lost. I sure don’t know who the mystery shadow is…that creepy person wearing that black cloak. I sure don’t know how to make that creepy old man confess to anything…and I sure don’t know what role I’m supposed to be playing.” Betty sighed. “I agree that the birth certificate we found is very important, but Mary, we can’t make a piece of paper talk.”

  “But maybe Cousin Brenda can,” Mary told Betty. “If not Cousin Brenda then maybe Matthew himself.” Mary rolled over and looked at Betty. “We hid the dead body, which has given us some advantage. We have to think smart and play smart and use that advantage we have to capture a deadly spider.” Mary bit down on her lower lip. “Whoever the mystery person running around is, I’m not certain he…or she…wants to harm us. If that person wanted to harm us, we would be dead by now,” Mary assured Betty. “I saw our mystery person follow Cousin Brenda upstairs, but we found Cousin Brenda safely in her bedroom. Whoever this person is, I think he or she is after Matthew…after answers.”

  Betty stared into Mary’s exhausted eyes. “I hope that’s true,” she said in a desperate voice.

  “Me, too,” Mary replied and laid her head down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe our mystery person has been trying to communicate with us.” Mary thought about the bookshelf in the library opening and then walked her mind back to the kitchen and looked at the pantry door. “At first I thought our mystery person was Matthew’s daughter. Now I’m not so sure.” Mary walked away from the kitchen and went to the front door. She saw Brenda open the front door, look out into the storm, and then hurry upstairs. “When Cousin Brenda opened the front door and looked out into the rain, she did so in a way that made me believe she was expecting someone. And when she hurried upstairs, the person wearing the black cloak appeared and chased after her.”

  Betty listened to Mary, who was mainly voicing her thoughts in order to make sense of them, and slowly felt her eyes begin closing. A few seconds later she began snoring. Mary rolled over, looked at Betty, and sighed. “Oh Betty,” she said and smiled. “You poor dear.” Mary quietly eased off the bed. As she did, her eyes shifted up to the portrait of the beautiful woman. She spotted human eyes watching her. Instead of panicking she said in a calm voice: “Why don’t you come and speak with me…whoever you are?”

  “Leave this place,” a voice hissed.

  Mary immediately recognized the voice as one that belonged to a woman. “Who are you?” she demanded, keeping her eyes locked on the portrait. “Why did you call my friend here?”

  “Leave this place,” the voice hissed again. “I’ve been watching you. I know you are innocent. I will let you leave.”

  Mary took a step away from the bed. “Is Cousin Brenda innocent?” she asked. “I saw you chase after her earlier.”

  “You are trapped in a deep hole. Leave this place.”

  Mary shook her head. “I want answers,” she demanded. “Someone called my friend. That someone claimed my friend’s Aunt Gennifer had died and asked her to travel to Maine for the funeral.” Mary put her hands onto her hips. “This awful storm caused me to run my car off the road into a flooded ditch. My friend and I were forced to abandon my car and ended up here at this spooky mansion.” Mary steadied her mind. “When we arrived, someone opened the front door. Someone also let a very mean dog loose and that dog chased us inside. When my friend and I ran inside we found a dead body lying on the foyer floor. It’s been one confusing twist and turn ever since. So you listen and listen close, sister, stop acting like a creepy shadow and start giving me answers because a man has been murdered and justice will be served. Is that clear?”

  “Justice does not apply to this night,” the woman hissed at Mary. “I thought you and your friend were involved. You are innocent. You can leave…leave while you still can before the night swallows you.”

  Mary shook her head again. “No deal,” she said in a stubborn voice. “My friend and I have hidden the body of…the body we found,” Mary quickly caught herself. She wasn’t prepared to confess that the body belonged to Ralph McCane. Maybe, she thought, the creepy woman knew who the body belonged to, but she wasn’t ready to let that pawn be snapped up by a queen wearing a black cloak. “Whoever the killer is, is going to have an awful hard time locating the body, too. And I’m not going to reveal where we hid the body until I get some answers.” Mary drew in an angry breath. “Now, who called my friend? Was it you? Are you…Mr. McCane’s daughter?”

  The eyes suddenly vanished. Mary shook her head. “I guess you didn’t want to—” She stopped talking when a hidden doorway standing beside the fireplace began to open. Mary stepped back toward the back and waited. A few seconds later a shadowy figure wearing the black cloak appeared.

  “Uh…hello,” Mary said, trying not to sound frightened. “I’m…glad you have decided to talk with me.”

  “Are you?” the woman asked. She raised her hand, pulled a black hood off her head, and revealed one of the most beautiful faces Mary had ever seen on a woman. “Will you be glad once I tell you the truth?”

  Mary stared at the woman in shock. “You—”

  “You were expecting an ugly duckling?” the woman asked. She closed the hidden door, walked over to the vanity, and sat down. “I’m aware that I’m very beautiful,” she said and ran her hands through silky red hair. “Brenda has always been very jealous of me. My father, on the other hand, loved me very deeply.”

  “Who are you?” Mary asked, carefully approaching the vanity. “Please, I want answers.”

  The woman looked up at Mary. As she did, the anger in her eyes transformed into pain and suffering. “My name is Sarah McCane. I’m the daughter of Ralph McCane,” she told Mary. Tears began dripping from her eyes. “I’ve come to avenge his death. Now please, leave this place.”

  “There’s a very mean dog outside,” Mary pointed out, feeling her heart break for the woman. “I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to…well, not unless I wanted to become a late-night snack.”

  “Brenda set the dog loose,” Sarah informed Mary as she wiped at her tears. She looked up at Mary. “Brenda may be an ugly duckling, but she is a very brilliant woman who has been manipulating you and your friend all night. You believe she is innocent, but Brenda is far from innocent.” And with those words Sarah looked into the mirror resting on the vanity. “No one is innocent…no one,” she whispered as her eyes flooded with tears.

  Mary wasn’t certain what to say or do. She stood silent and confused and listened to the night grow darker and colder.

  7

  Sarah removed the black cloak covering a dark red dress that made Mary think of a fallen rose; Sarah herself seemed like a fallen rose. “It’s all about the money,” she told Mary, setting the cloak across the vanity. “You must understand that.”

  “I’m starting to understand,” Mary said. She glanced at Betty. Betty’s eyes fluttered and then slowly opened. “We have a guest,” Mary told her best friend.

  Betty gently raised her head and spotted Sarah. “Oh dear,” she said in a sleepy voice, “who are you?”

  “My name is Sarah McCane,” Sarah told Betty.

  Betty’s eyes grew wide. “That voice…your voice…you were the woman I spoke to on the telephone.” Betty quickly sat up. “Your voice was so pretty.”

  Sarah remained calm. “Yes, I called you.”

  “Why?” Mary asked.

  “Because you are mentioned in Ralph McCane’s will,” Sarah explained, looking at Betty. “I needed answers.” Sarah’s eyes softened. “I was expecting you to arrive tonight…however,” Sarah lowered her eyes and sp
oke with a sad voice, “events turned tragic before you arrived.”

  “Ralph McCane was murdered,” Mary said.

  Sarah nodded. “Matthew and Brenda were holding my dear father captive in this mansion.” Sarah raised her eyes. “I was away in Europe for many years. My father would send me letters…and money. I never suspected anything was the matter until his letters suddenly stopped. I became worried and traveled from Paris to Tennessee where my father’s last letter had been mailed from.” Sarah lowered her eyes again. “My father informed me he had remarried a woman who was supposed to be my mother’s sister.”

  “Supposed to be?” Mary asked.

  Sarah sighed miserably. “My father, although very brilliant…changed after my mother died. He became…distant, tormented…destroyed. His mind began to change. He began having mood swings. One day he would laugh, smile, and even pull old pranks he once enjoyed teasing my mother with…and the next day he would become dark, angry, bitter, and withdrawn. His moods became so horrible that he sent me to Europe in order to protect me from himself.”

  “How sad,” Betty said and nearly began crying.

  Sarah raised her eyes. “I must continue,” she pleaded in a tormented voice.

  “Please,” Mary urged in a caring voice.

  Sarah wiped at her lovely eyes. “My father sent me my mother’s hidden diary in his very last letter to me,” she continued. “In the letter he claimed that his brother was trying to harm him and that I had to protect the diary.”

  “Why did Mr. McCane want you to protect the diary?” Mary asked.

  “My father stated in his latest letter that he had made a terrible mistake,” Sarah explained. She pointed at Betty. “My father claimed that your mother was the true lost sister my own mother had hidden from him.”

  “What?” Betty exclaimed.

  Sarah raised her hand and calmed Betty. “I believed you might have been involved in the disappearance of my father,” she continued. “After you arrived tonight, I began following Matthew and Brenda around the mansion. I heard them speaking and confessing the truth.” Sarah looked at Betty. “You are innocent…they are very guilty and must suffer for their crime.”

  Mary bit down on her lower lip. “Sarah, let’s walk back through time a little. Can you explain to me what happened tonight before Betty and I arrived?”

  Sarah lowered her eyes. “My father was murdered,” she whispered as tears began falling from her eyes. “When I arrived in Tennessee, I drove to the town Brenda lived in with her mother. I found the house my father was living in with his new wife. And then,” Sarah said, becoming angry, “I found Matthew pretending to be my father.” Sarah squeezed her hands into two fists. “I knew Matthew wasn’t my father simply by looking at him from a distance. My father always carried a loving, gentle, caring face. Matthew is…evil.”

  “What did you do then?” Mary asked. She folded her arms and waited for Sarah to calm down.

  “I drove to the town you live in,” Sarah explained and once again pointed at Betty. “I wanted…needed…answers. However, when I arrived, all I found was a simple woman who didn’t appear to offer any kind of threat.” Sarah’s eyes became apologetic. “I was very upset and very scared for my father. Even though you appeared harmless I couldn’t take the chance.” Sarah rotated her eyes to Mary. “I drove back to the town Brenda was living in and was shocked to see her moving away to Maine with her mother and Matthew. I followed them to my father’s mansion…” Sarah’s voice became filled with pain. “I knew my father was being held captive inside this mansion…but I waited…”

  “Waited for what?” Mary asked.

  “Waited for my fear to leave,” Sarah replied in a shameful voice. She raised her lovely eyes. “I’m a tender woman. I spent many beautiful years exploring the European countryside, painting, writing poetry, visiting romantic castles and even falling in love…desperate to forget the pain that had wounded my heart after my mother died…after seeing my father become a destroyed man.” Sarah wiped at her eyes again. “I didn’t have the courage to confront Matthew and Brenda face to face…so I devised a plan.”

  “A plan?” Betty asked.

  Sarah nodded. “I began hiding in the pool house,” she explained. “Matthew and Brenda never visited the pool house and rarely left the mansion. The lovely yard my father so cared for transformed into a hideous nightmare. No matter,” Sarah continued and drew in a deep breath. “I remained in the pool house watching the mansion, taking secret day trips into town for food, wondering what to do. My father was certainly being held captive inside the mansion, but I was too fearful to try and break inside. And then one day last month I heard a horrible scream come from inside the mansion—a woman’s scream. A short time later Brenda left the mansion and drove into town.”

  “Drove?” Mary asked. “Brenda said she couldn’t drive.”

  “That’s a lie,” Sarah told Mary. “Brenda has her car hidden behind the pool house, away from the eyes of Matthew.”

  Betty sighed. “Oh, Cousin Brenda, why?”

  Sarah walked over to the fireplace. “I’ll explain about Brenda in a minute,” she promised. “First, let me explain about your Aunt Gennifer.”

  “Please,” Betty begged.

  Sarah turned and faced the bedroom. “Brenda returned from town with a doctor. Shortly after, I saw a second car arrive. Two men rushed out of the car and ran into the mansion. A few minutes later they came out carrying your Aunt Gennifer’s body and drove her into town. Brenda and Matthew followed, riding into town with the doctor.” Sarah paused and then continued. “For the first time since I had arrived at the mansion the two of them were gone. An opportunity to find a way inside without being seen had finally arrived.”

  “So, you found a way inside?” Betty asked.

  Sarah nodded. “I spent some of my earliest years in this mansion,” she explained. “But oh, how it had changed while I had been away in Europe. Father had certainly been busy. Why, I barely recognized the mansion when I first arrived. To be honest, I was at a complete loss,” Sarah confessed. “All I knew was that I had to get inside. So I broke through a window…not very clever, I know, but I was desperate to locate my father.”

  “We understand,” Mary assured Sarah. “Keep talking.”

  “The mansion was enormous inside, much larger than I remembered,” Sarah continued in a miserable voice. “Why, my father could have been anywhere.” Sarah looked up at the portrait of her mother. “It was in this very room that I looked up at my mother…looked up at her eyes…grief-stricken, confused…searching for comfort. Only, the eyes on my mother’s face were missing. At first, I didn’t understand why and then I remembered how my father once told me how my mother loved mysteries and always adored old, romantic castles…especially castles with hidden passages.” Sarah felt a tear drop from her eye. She eased over to the hidden door and touched it. “I broke into tears and collapsed against this wall. As I did, my back struck this door and pushed it open.”

  “Oh, how sad,” Betty sighed.

  Mary walked over to Sarah and touched her hands. “What did you do next?” she asked.

  “What could I do?” Sarah asked. “I walked through the door and found myself in a hidden, unknown, scary new world…a world I became trapped in.” Sarah gently pulled her hand away from Mary and walked back to the vanity. “I began searching for my father down one scary, confusing hallway after another, running behind these walls like a scared, lost little girl.”

  “Did you find your father?” Betty asked in an anxious voice. “Oh please, tell me you did.”

  “I found my father tied up in a dark storage room,” Sarah told Betty. “Only…Father had suffered some form of an attack. He was unconscious, tied up, and shoved into a damp corner.” Sarah’s face suddenly burst into rage. “It was at that very moment…seeing my father lying on the floor in that horrible state…that my fear left me and a thirst for justice…revenge…began consuming me.”

  Mary walked to the bed a
nd sat down. Her legs were exhausted, and she knew Sarah still had a great deal of talking to trap down. “Take your time,” she urged Sarah. “We’re your friends.”

  Sarah looked at Mary. “Friends are for fools,” she said, feeling her rage leave her face and sadness arrive. “My father’s own brother betrayed him.”

  Mary didn’t know how to respond. It was obvious Sarah was broken and scarred inside of her heart. “Please, keep talking.”

  “I will,” Sarah promised, “because you are a newspaper woman. You will tell my story if anything happens to me.” Sarah sat down at the vanity and looked at her black cloak. “I devised a plan to force everyone I suspected of harming my father to become trapped inside of this mansion. Even though I found no wrong in you,” she told Betty, “you still remained uncertain in my mind. My father sent me his will, hidden inside my mother’s diary. Your name was mentioned. I didn’t understand why. I needed answers.”

  “Oh, this is all so confusing,” Betty exclaimed. “Why, I never even met Ralph McCane. Why would I want to harm a man I never met? Why, I can’t even step on an ant, for crying out loud.”

  “I know that…now,” Sarah explained. “I didn’t know of your tender state at the time I called you.” Sarah looked at Mary. “Shortly after Brenda and Matthew located the broken window, they purchased an attack dog. When you arrived tonight, I was worried about the dog. I was the one who opened the front door for you…and fled from my father’s body. I was concerned the dog might harm you.”

  “We’re very grateful,” Mary told Sarah. “That awful dog would have certainly chewed us into shreds.” Mary studied Sarah’s troubled face. “Your father was murdered, Sarah. Who killed him?”