Blackvine Manor Mystery Read online

  Alexis pulls herself together enough to ask all the prerequisite questions her father taught her. Just as she’s nearing the end of the list, coming to terms about utilities and rent, Barry returns with a ceiling fan.

  “We have a few updates to make the place more comfortable,” Maxwell tells her.

  “I really didn’t want to rush into anything,” Alexis tells them both, “but the rent is so reasonable and now that I can hear my mother’s favorite song I think it must be a good sign. I’ll take it!”

  Barry cocks a scraggly eyebrow at Maxwell whose smile slips just a little before he quickly says, “I’ll grab the paperwork. Why don’t I take you to the neighborhood cafe for a drink to celebrate?”

  Chapter Three

  “SO YOU’RE MOVING IN HERE because the landlord is hot?” Nora drops a noisy box of pots and pans. “No wonder your dad refuses to help. Too bad I’ve known you since junior high school otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten suckered in either.”

  “I told you the rent is a steal and since I’m taking some time off between jobs, this made the most sense.”

  “Again, no wonder your dad refuses to help. What on Earth are you going to do with time off? You’ve had a job ever since junior high.” Nora flops down on Alexis’ red sofa and surveys the studio apartment. “He’s gotta be hot for you to go from 1,500 square feet to this.”

  “Its not about him!” Alexis protests as she creates a wall around her bed using two bookshelves and a privacy screen. “And I think this place is charming.”

  “I’ll give you that,” Nora agrees as the sun breaks through the heavy clouds outside and the entire apartment warms. “So, what are you going to do with this ‘time off’ you’ve been forced to take?”

  Alexis sits down on the steamer trunk currently in use as a coffee table. “I’m going to see what I can find out about my mother.”

  “About time.” Nora sits up, “How do we start?”

  Alexis shows her the letter and confesses her mother’s connection to Blackvine Manor Apartments is the real reason she decided to move in. “And the reason my dad refuses to help me. Something happened here that caused her to leave and for him to let her go. He didn’t want me anywhere near this place.”

  “Ah, let me guess, you’ve heard a few ghost stories about your new home.” Maxwell is leaning on the open door.

  Alexis stands up as if electrified and Nora tries to smother a grin. “You must be the landlord.”

  “Sorry, yes, this is my friend Nora. She’s helping me move in.” Alexis is more worried about the nervous speed of her words than the slight blush arriving on her cheeks.

  “The place looks great and I’m glad you are settling in. Oh, and don’t believe all the stories; old buildings have quirks, that’s all it is.” He waves at them both, giving Alexis one last glance before heading back down the hallway.

  “Liar.” Nora sinks back down onto the couch. “You totally moved in because of him. Jeans, t-shirt, sport coat, all that hair and those eyes melting you. He’s exactly what you need to be doing during your ‘time off’.”

  Nora finally leaves after an exhausting day of hauling everything into the small studio apartment. Alexis thought she’d done a great job of downsizing but looking around at all the boxes she sighs and decides she needs another purge. Opening a bottle of wine and the first moving box, she happily settles in to simplifying her life.

  Just as she’s gathering up a box now marked ‘Goodwill’ and heading down to put it in her car, there’s a soft knock on the door. She opens it to see George pushing up his glasses and smiling his lopsided grin.

  “I just thought I’d stop by and see how moving was going.” He’s nervous, hitching up his baggy jeans and not knowing where to look.

  “Great! Actually exhausting. Would you mind giving me a hand?”

  He quickly wipes his damp hands on his jeans and takes the box from her. “Sure, no problem.”

  As she pops the trunk of her car, she remembers Mrs. Ramsey’s warnings. “So, everyone keeps mentioning ghost stories but no one has actually told me one.”

  George, relieved to be given a topic of conversation, lights up. “Lights flicker; residents see shadow people down halls. Oh, and the laundry room door likes to shut on its own. It sticks and a few neighbors have gotten caught inside. Ask Barry about it. He’s tried everything from olive oil to diaper cream to keep that door from sticking.”

  When the hallway lights flicker, she looks around thinking George must be playing a prank on the new girl but he’s already waved goodbye and headed back to his apartment. No one is there. Then a flash moves and Alexis is sure a woman is standing in the opposite stairwell, at the end of the hallway. Thinking it’s a new neighbor beckoning her, Alexis heads towards her only to realize it must have been a reflection in the stairwell window.

  The lights flicker again and Alexis gasps. There is clearly a woman, her hair pulled up into a bun, on the landing below her.

  “Alright, George, you’re not going to get me.” Alexis heads down the stairs.

  A voice calls to her from the foyer and she marches down to find it empty. Down the short flight of stairs to the basement, she hears a door creaking and heads towards it, fists clenched.

  The faucet is running in the laundry room so she barges through, calling, “Nice try, George!”

  “Come on, Al.” The whisper from the side door makes her blood freeze. The only person to ever call her Al was her mother.

  The water stops running on its own and Alexis fumbles for Nora on the speed dial. “You are not going to believe this.”

  “Are you freaking out in your new place? Come on, hottie landlord told you old buildings have quirks.”

  “I’m down in the basement and something is not right.”

  “Then go back upstairs,” Nora shouts into the phone. “What are you, the bimbo from a horror film?”

  “Shhh, I hear something. I gotta check it out, just stay on the phone with me.”

  “Great, now I’m going to have nightmares,” Nora says but stays on the line.

  Alexis heads cautiously through the side door. Wooden storage stalls line the interior wall. She sees the well-lit back stairwell past all the doors and decides she’ll just walk through quickly.

  “Talk to me!” Nora can’t stand the suspense.

  “Nothing, I’m just heading back upstairs. Except—” Alexis cuts off and drops to a frozen whisper “—there’s music coming from one of these storage units.”

  “Please tell me its not creepy kids singing nursery rhymes.”

  “No,” Alexis says, feeling a wave of sickness, “its my mother’s favorite song: ‘You Can Call Me Al’. Can’t you hear it?”

  She holds the phone up to the storage unit door.

  “Honey, I can’t hear a thing. Are you alright?”

  “Yup, fine. Just tired and silly. Night!” Alexis hangs up the phone and sprints all the way back upstairs.

  Chapter Four

  ALEXIS CAN HEAR THE SMILE over the phone, curving Maxwell’s lips, and she has to shake her head to remember why she called. “I was just curious about the storage units in the basement.”

  “Sure. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you; we got a little distracted over drinks that first night.” He chuckles and she is glad this is a phone conversation as her cheeks start to blaze. “#206 is yours; just put a padlock on it.”

  “Thanks. Just so you know”—Alexis tries to sound casual—“I went down to check them out and heard a radio or something playing in #203.”

  There’s a pause before Maxwell admits, “That’s strange. No one is living in #203. Though I think Barry mentioned a few things had been left behind.”

  “If you let me know the last few residents, I could track them down and give them back their stuff. I don’t mind.” She thinks fast. “I’ll be down there organizing my stuff anyway and I’m on vacation right now so I have some time.”

  His voice is crisper as he says, “I can look it up ri
ght now. Sure. Hmmm, it looks like the last tenant was Amelia Tennon. No one has rented the unit since then.”

  Alexis can’t catch her breath and has to hold the phone away while she flaps her hands and steadies herself. “Hey, thanks. Oops, I gotta run.”

  She cuts him off mid-question and quickly redials the phone. “Dad, it’s me.”

  “How are you? How’s the job hunt? Need any help writing cover letters? Why don’t you come over here and we can practice interview questions?”

  Alexis rubs her forehead hard. “Just tell me what happened with Mom and Blackvine Manor. You can’t avoid it forever.”

  A. J.’s voice drops all emotion. “When you were little I found out your mother had kept her old apartment. She’d had it for years, it was still furnished, and she was starting to go there regularly.”

  “Maybe she just liked the quiet.”

  “Maybe.” He heaves a big sigh. “I think marriage scared her. Maybe she regretted marrying me. Maybe she was having an affair. Whatever it was felt like betrayal. There was something she wasn’t telling me. But that was your mother; she liked to keep everything to herself.”

  “You really think it was an affair?” Alexis asks softly, “Is that why she mentioned a man named Fenton in her letter? Dad?”

  The connection buzzes with static and his voice disappears in snaps and crackles. As she presses her ear harder to the phone, Alexis starts to hear a man and woman arguing.

  “I’m married to you. He’s a friend, an old friend. I love you.”

  “Stop saying that! How can I believe you? You’ve been lying, I caught you lying!” The man’s voice cracks with rage.

  “Dad?” Alexis shakes her head, terrified she’s somehow hearing the last fight her parents ever had.

  She holds the phone away from her ear and she watches it flicker and turn off. She can still hear the argument, now growing louder and more intense. It seems to reverberate from the walls.

  “Please don’t. I love you!”

  Her window lights up with the silhouette of a man leaning over a woman. She falls to her knees, one pleading hand reaching up; he smacks it away, his fingers flexing with anger. Alexis feels her throat tighten as the shadows intertwine.

  “Delia!” A hoarse voice shouts so loud that Alexis cowers down onto the floor and covers her ears.

  “There you are, Barry. Everything alright, Ms. Cole?” Maxwell starts his appreciative smile but it stops when she turns in his direction.

  Barry, holding the step stool as she examines the ceiling fan, gives his boss a stern look. “She’s had a fright.”

  “I’m fine,” Alexis snaps. “Someone played a prank on me. Probably that George guy.”

  Maxwell holds out a hand to help her down from the stool. “George isn’t like that. A bit weird but he’s a good guy.”

  “Do you believe this building is haunted?” she asks him, hands on her hips.

  He scoffs. “No. It’s just an old building and an old, creaky building makes some people nervous.”

  Alexis sticks out her chin. “So your old creaky building yelled the name Delia?”

  “I’m sorry, what name?” Maxwell steps back and blinks a few times.

  “You heard her,” Barry huffs, taking the step stool out of Maxwell’s hands and leaving.

  He recovers and starts turning around, scouring her apartment, “You’re right. It must be a prank. I’ll help you figure it out.”

  Chapter Five

  “ALRIGHT, DESCRIBE WHAT HAPPENED AGAIN,” Maxwell tells her as he pulls open all the cabinets in the kitchen looking for speakers.

  “I was talking to my father until this weird static drowned him out. I could hear two people arguing, actually more of the man arguing and the woman defending herself. Then I realized it wasn’t the phone, it was coming from inside my apartment, or inside the building. I was standing here and saw the silhouettes in the window reflection.” Alexis pauses, staring at the window as she steps back and rubs gently at her throat.

  “What?” Maxwell comes out of the kitchen, putting a comforting hand on the small of her back.

  “He strangled her. That’s how she died. One of the neighbors said something about a murder here. It was long ago but is that how she died? Was she strangled?”

  Maxwell draws his hand away and rubs his 5 o’clock shadow. “How should I know?”

  “You own the building, right? How can you not know if a murder took place here?”

  He yanks down his sleeves and heads across the small studio to check all the built-in dresser drawers. “It had to be a prank.”

  Alexis tries to ignore the fact that he is fumbling around in her underwear drawer by remembering how immediate his reaction was. “You know the name Delia. You have to know something about it.”

  He pauses in his search, slowly realizing he is holding a pink pair of silk underwear trimmed in black lace before quickly deciding, “If it was a projector, it had to come from across the courtyard. Come on.”

  Alexis wonders if the slight red on his cheeks is from the underwear or her prying into the familiar name. Either way he is determined to prove it was a prank, so determined that he takes her by the hand and hauls her down the hallway, around the corner and to the apartment that directly faces hers across the courtyard. He still hasn’t let go as he knocks on the door and she has to tear herself away from the flashing suggestions his large, capable hands are producing in her head.

  “Charles in charge, Alexis, what can I do you for?” George Carleton opens the door slightly and speaks to them through a narrow gap.

  “Hiya, George, sorry to barge in.” Maxwell drops her hand and pushes the door to George’s apartment open wider.

  Her hand cools and Alexis realizes the heat his innocent touch ignited in her. “I didn’t realize we lived straight across from each other, George.”

  “And I didn’t realize you had so much film equipment, Georgie. Got any projectors in here?” Maxwell pushes all the way into his studio, the mirror image of Alexis’ apartment.

  George gives Alexis a stricken and confused look. “I’m a cameraman, freelance but I get a lot of local gigs. And all the extra stuff is for editing, no projectors.”

  “This looks like a little bit more than work, eh, George?” Maxwell goes immediately to the equipment lined up along the window facing Alexis’ apartment.

  George gives Alexis another look, reminding her of a kicked puppy, “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

  She relents and tells him, “Someone played a trick on me. I saw and heard an argument play out; it didn’t end well.”

  Maxwell picks up a pair of night vision goggles and turns sharply on George. “I think you need to explain a few things.”

  Alexis shies away from George and it breaks him out of his haze, “This is more than work, this is my hobby. I’m a paranormal researcher. I use this equipment to assess possible encounters. Once I get some good evidence, I’m going to join the West County Paranormal Society.”

  “You’re a ghost hunter?” Alexis asks as Maxwell snorts.

  “Yeah.” George snatches back the night vision goggles. “But there’s more to it. There’s a science to it, and … and standards for evidence.”

  Maxwell steps closer to him, using his six inches of extra height to loom over him. “And you’re spreading stories about Blackvine Manor? You’re the reason this cursed place is getting a bad reputation?”

  “It’s not a bad reputation,” George splutters. “This place is really haunted. And it’s not hurting you at all.”

  Maxwell cocks an eyebrow at him and George cowers slightly. He opens his mouth to apologize but Maxwell cuts him off. “Is this kinda thing why you were asking about storage unit #203?”

  Alexis wants to stay and ask George a hundred questions but Maxwell’s reminder sets her on a different trajectory. “Yes. I heard music coming from it the other night.”

  “Like you heard inside your apartment before you decided to rent?” He frowns.
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  She feels her heart sink. “Why? Didn’t you hear it? I’m not crazy!”

  “Well, let’s go open it.” Maxwell snatches out his phone and calls Barry. “We’ll figure out where all the sounds are coming from and then catch the person doing it.”

  “What if it’s not a person?” George calls out but Maxwell is already ushering Alexis into the hallway and closing the door.

  Barry meets them in the basement with a lock cutter and a sour look on his face. When he sees Alexis he sends his eyes heavenward before handing over the tool and leaving without a word.

  “He’s not the nicest of people, is he?” Alexis sighs.

  “Barry? He’s a realist.” Maxwell pops the lock off storage unit #203 with a quick jerk and heads in before Alexis can look.

  “Nothing but a rusty sledgehammer and an old box,” Maxwell tells her as he stoops to pick up the box.

  The cardboard box falls apart as he stands up and a scant pile of old things fall to the cement floor of the storage unit: a picture frame showing a pink-bowed infant, a decorative tin full of ticket stubs and nostalgic scraps, a ragged book, and a silk scarf with a delicate hummingbird print.

  “Nothing that plays music,” Maxwell says, trying hard not to accuse Alexis of hearing things that don’t exist. “Just some leftovers from that Amelia Tennon woman I told you about. You can keep it or toss it.”

  Alexis shrugs, casually stepping past him to eye the disintegrating box. On the ground in the corner she notices a folded note that fluttered out when everything fell. In thin, curvy penmanship she reads her own name. She puts her toe over it and leans down to brush dust off her black boots, deciding not to tell Maxwell her mother’s maiden name was Tennon.