Mary Had a Little Scare Page 5

  “Look there.” Mary pointed to the front of the library. Two green sitting chairs with high backs—shaped like pieces of furniture fit for a king—sat in front of a stone fireplace. A handcrafted wooden table that had been made by an extremely skilled hand sat between the two chairs holding two crystal glasses and a clear glass pitcher of water. “And smell the air…smells like cherry tobacco.”

  Betty drew in a deep breath of air. “It sure does,” she agreed and eased the library door closed. “Mary, Cousin Brenda said Ralph was funny in the head…but this library doesn’t belong to a man who is funny in the head.”

  “It sure doesn’t,” Mary agreed. She wandered off to the far left wall and began examining a row of books. “Don Quixote…classic,” she said, running her finger over a book covered with a very old green leather. “Betty?”

  “Yes?”

  Mary slowly turned around. “I think it’s possible we interrupted your cousin Brenda.”

  “Interrupted?”

  Mary nodded and lowered her voice. “I believe your cousin Brenda might have been trying to take the body we saw out of the mansion. The only question is…where would she have been taking the body? We didn’t see a single car in the driveway.” Mary bit down on her lip. “Or,” she added, “it could have been…maybe the dead man we saw might have been trying to escape…and your cousin stabbed him in the back in the process. Either way…whether I’m right or wrong, I believe that we forced your cousin Brenda to change course. That’s why she locked us in the living room. She needed time to hide the body and develop a plan.”

  “Assuming she is the killer,” Betty whispered and then finished with: “I fear she is.”

  Mary nodded. “I’m wondering why she’s allowing us to roam freely,” she said, feeling a heavy confusion settle over her mind like a dark cloud. “What is her plan?”

  Betty shrugged her shoulders. “I wish I knew.”

  “Me, too,” Mary admitted. “The only theory my mind can see clearly is that your cousin Brenda is going to try and frame us for the murder…somehow.”

  Betty looked around the beautiful library. “I wish I knew more about my cousin Brenda. I saw her very little growing up. I only saw her a handful of times in my life, in my younger years. I wish I knew more about my Aunt Gennifer and the man she remarried, too.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for the situation we’re in,” Mary told Betty and patted her hand. “What’s important is that we try and figure out what’s going on.” Mary walked her eyes around. “Now, let’s go over the facts.”

  “Right…the facts,” Betty said, trying to sound positive.

  Mary nodded and walked over to the library door, engaging an inside lock. “Okay. We’re locked in here…safe and sound,” she told Betty and let out a heavy breath. “Let’s go sit down and go over the facts.”

  Betty studied the library door and then followed Mary to the sitting chairs. She quickly sat down in the chair to the left as Mary took the right. “Oh, very soft,” Betty said, “and feel this material…fit for a queen.”

  Mary ran her hand over the arms of the chair. “Almost feels like silk,” she said. “These chairs aren’t cheap. We’re talking about real money, which makes me wonder just what Ralph does…or did…for a living.”

  “Mother never said,” Betty told her.

  Mary leaned back and studied the stone fireplace. “The air smells like cherry tobacco…but not old tobacco. It smells like someone was in here, why, just today smoking a pipe.”

  “It sure does,” Betty agreed.

  Mary slowly folded her arms. “Okay, let’s get to the facts.”

  “The facts, right.”

  Mary struggled to settle her troubled mind. “Your cousin Brenda…or someone claiming to be your cousin Brenda…called you, right?”

  “Right,” Betty said and nodded her head up and down, up and down, up and down. “The person who called Mother insisted on speaking to me, too.”

  “The person you spoke with, Betty, did she sound anything like the woman we encountered in the living room?”

  Betty frowned. “I’m afraid not. The woman in the living room…oh, Mary, please don’t think of me being hateful…but she has a…a…”

  “A chipmunk voice?”

  Betty nodded and cringed a little. “And her face looks like a…”

  “A bat?”

  Again, Betty nodded. “The woman who called me had an eloquent voice…Oh, it was such a pretty voice.”

  Mary soaked in Betty’s words. “Okay, let’s keep rolling forward. We’ll come back to the phone call later.”

  “Right.”

  “Fact number two: We ran into a ditch on a road that turned out to be the road we needed to be on,” Mary continued.

  “Right,” Betty agreed.

  “Which means whoever called you actually gave you the right address,” Mary pointed out. She unfolded her arms and rubbed her nose. “Could it be that your cousin Brenda really did call you…and the woman we encountered in the library is an imposter? Could it be she’s the one who was watching us from behind the portrait in the living room?”

  “I don’t know,” Betty confessed. “All I know is that the woman I spoke to on the telephone had a lovely voice and not a…chipmunk voice.”

  Mary continued to think and then stopped rubbing her nose. “Okay, fact number three,” she said, moving forward, “we saw a dead body with our own eyes.”

  “We sure did,” Betty exclaimed. “My eyes didn’t see a man who was playing a gag, either. No sir. My eyes saw a dead man.”

  “A dead man…” Mary whispered and closed her eyes. She walked her mind back to the foyer, replaced the empty foyer floor with the dead body she had seen, and began pacing back and forth. “The dead body we saw wasn’t breathing…didn’t move…didn’t make a single sound. And the knife we saw stuck in his back…Betty, that was a real knife.”

  “It sure was,” Betty agreed and shivered all over.

  Mary opened her eyes and returned back to the library. “We’ll need to investigate the kitchen later on,” she said and got back to the facts. “Fact number four: We were locked in the living room.”

  “Yes.”

  Mary nodded. “And fact number five: Your cousin Brenda, or someone claiming to be your cousin Brenda, unlocked the living room doors and claimed that a man named Ralph was pulling a gag. She also claimed she never called you…which can be backed up by you claiming the voice of the woman who talked to you is different from her voice.”

  “Right.” Betty nodded. “I spoke to a woman with a lovely voice, Mary.”

  Mary paced around the facts and then wandered into a room full of questions. “Now let’s ask ourselves some questions.”

  “Right…questions,” Betty said and braced herself.

  “Why would a person claiming to be your cousin Brenda call you, lie about your Aunt Gennifer dying, and then ask you to drive all the way to Maine?”

  “I have no earthly idea,” Betty confessed.

  Mary looked over back into the library and checked the door. The door was still closed. “We need to see if your Aunt Gennifer is really at Sparrow Manor. If she’s not…maybe she really is dead.”

  “Cousin Brenda, or that woman claiming to be my cousin, said Aunt Gennifer took a terrible fall last month,” Betty pointed out.

  “I know,” Mary said in a worried voice, wondering if the fall Betty’s aunt had suffered had been accidental or intentional. “Okay, now let’s ask ourselves this question: Where is the body we saw? It surely can’t be outside…well, I suppose it could be…but the woman…oh, let’s just call her Cousin Brenda for now…her shoes weren’t wet, they were bone dry.”

  “So, you think it’s possible she hid the body inside this mansion someplace?” Betty asked.

  Mary nodded. “Also,” she added, “Cousin Brenda said she’s the one that has to feed that awful, mean dog outside. I’m not so sure her hostile attitude toward that dog is authentic.”

  B
etty thought on Mary’s words. “Well, it does make sense that a dog would become friendly toward a person who continually feeds it.”

  Mary nodded. “Cousin Brenda also said a man from town drives to this mansion once a week to take her into town to see her mother and to run chores.” Mary looked at Betty. “If Cousin Brenda has to feed the dog that means the dead man we saw…well, he doesn’t care about the dog…at least that’s the way I see it. Besides, look around, a man with this kind of taste wouldn’t have a mean attack dog, would he?”

  “I…guess not,” Betty agreed.

  Mary folded her arms again. “That dog has to belong to Cousin Brenda…and maybe the man that comes to pick her up, too.”

  “Huh?” Betty asked.

  “Does Cousin Brenda seem like she’s a woman who has many friends?”

  “No way.”

  “Exactly,” Mary pointed out. “So how did she come across a man who is willing to drive out to this mansion once a week and take her into town?” Mary sighed. “We have to keep that question at the front of our notes, okay?”

  “Got it,” Betty promised.

  Mary glanced down at the two crystal glasses and the glass pitcher of water. The pitcher of water was nearly empty. “Say,” she said and quickly picked up one of the crystal glasses and turned it upside down. A few drops of water leaked from the glass and fell down onto her lap. “Someone has been in this library,” she told Betty, “very recently, too.”

  Betty slowly picked up the second crystal glass and turned it upside down. “Mine is dry,” she told Mary.

  “One person…” Mary said to herself. “I wonder if that person was the dead man we saw? I bet you a wooden penny it was.”

  Betty set down the crystal glass and fought back a yawn. Her mind felt like it was slowly turning into mashed potatoes. “Maybe,” she agreed. “That would make sense.”

  Mary glanced at Betty. “Oh, you’re exhausted, and here I am bombarding your mind with facts and questions.” Mary set down the crystal glass she was holding. “It is late and way past your bedtime.”

  “It’s been past my bedtime,” Betty informed Mary, fighting back a second yawn. “But there’s no time to sleep. We have a mystery to solve and a killer to catch…and a body to find. It’s like you mentioned to me in the living room: There is no telling what devious plan Cousin Brenda is dreaming up in her sick, ugly old mind. It very well could be she’s going to try and frame us for the murder she committed.”

  “Well, if she wanted us dead, we would be dead…I suppose,” Mary said. “She could have kept the front door locked and set her dog loose on us. Instead, it seemed like she used that mean dog to chase us inside. Oh,” Mary fussed, “there’s too many questions and not enough facts. All I’m doing is throwing a lot of assumptions into a pot of thick confusion. If John were here he would…why, he would scold me for being so foolish.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Betty corrected Mary. “You’re thinking, and that’s very important. Lots of folks just give up when the situation becomes confusing…Mother herself enjoys easy puzzles and complains when she encounters a difficult puzzle. But not you…your mind is at your typewriter getting tomorrow’s story all ready.”

  Mary looked at Betty and almost started to cry. “You’re the best friend a girl can—” Before Mary could finish her sentence, she heard a strange sound. She jumped to her feet and looked around. And to her horror, one of the bookshelves began moving.

  “Someone…is trying to get inside the library!” she yelled and charged to the fire iron, snatched it up, and spun around just in time to see the bookshelf on the far left wall fully open. Mary squinted her eyes and peered at the dark opening, waiting for a deadly killer to appear. When no one appeared, she motioned for Betty to join her. Betty ran to Mary and took her hand. “Stay close,” Mary whispered and began easing over to the bookshelf.

  “Oh,” Betty fretted and followed Mary, nearly walking on her friend’s heels.

  Mary approached the bookshelf, raised her left hand over her eyes, and looked into the dark opening. She spotted a long hallway lined with dimly lit lamps attached to the right and left walls. “Just like California,” she whispered.

  Betty threw her eyes into the hallway and then shook her head. “Mary, please, don’t tell me you’re considering going into that creepy hallway,” she begged. “Let’s go back to the living room…or find the kitchen. I’ll make us some coffee…and maybe we can find something to eat.”

  Mary kept her eyes on the hallway. “I have no intention of falling into any trap that is being set for us,” she said and backed Betty up to the library door. “Come on, let’s go find the kitchen.” As soon as Mary said those words the bookshelf let out a metallic click and began closing. “Exactly,” Mary whispered.

  “Exactly what?” Betty asked, confused, watching the bookshelf close over the hidden hallway.

  “The killer was listening to our every word,” Mary whispered and quickly unlocked the library door. “Come on, let’s hurry upstairs as fast as we can.”

  “Why?” Betty asked. “I thought we were going to try and find the kitchen.”

  “The killer is in that hidden hallway expecting us to go find the kitchen,” Mary whispered and pulled Betty out of the library into a posh hallway. “This might be the only time we have to hide. Let’s hurry.” Mary grabbed Betty’s hand and dashed down the hallway. They made their way to the main staircase and thundered upstairs as a shadowy figure hurried toward the kitchen.

  Outside, the rain continued to fall harder and harder as the night grew darker and darker.

  4

  Mary hurried down a long, exquisite hallway covered with a lush—and very expensive—green carpet. The hallway was lined with what appeared to be endless closed doors. Rare paintings and lovely furnishings lined the hallway, but no telephone was in sight.

  “Which door?” Betty asked in a confused voice. “There’s so many.”

  “I’m not sure,” Mary confessed. She reached the end of the hallway and slid to a stop. Two separate hallways, one to her right and one to her left, appeared. The new hallways resembled the main hallway. “Goodness,” Mary said, “this mansion goes on forever and ever, doesn’t it?”

  Betty looked to her left. “It sure does,” she said, “and what’s worse…there are no windows. It’s like being trapped under the cover of a scary book with no way out.”

  “I know,” Mary agreed. She glanced down at the fire iron in her hand and tried to think. “Come on,” she said and moved back down the hallway toward the main staircase.

  “Where are we going?” Betty asked, confused.

  “To outwit a killer, I hope,” Mary said. She hurried back down the hallway, came to a stop at the last door on her right, and looked at Betty. “The killer might expect us to hide somewhere deep in this mansion. I think it might be smart if we stayed close to the staircase.”

  “Good idea,” Betty whispered.

  Mary quickly opened the door. “Hurry,” she told Betty.

  “I’m hurrying,” Betty promised and ran into a dimly lit room half the size of the library. “My,” she whispered.

  Mary rushed into the room and silently closed the door behind her. When she turned around, her eyes grew wide. “Oh my,” she nearly gasped.

  “What…is this place?” Betty asked in a shaky, scared voice.

  Mary didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer—how could she? She was standing in a room full of countless suits of armor holding very sharp warrior swords. Each suit of armor was wearing a different battle flag over its chest, dressed for war. They were standing on a strong hardwood floor facing toward the center of the room like soldiers waiting for an order that would give them permission to begin fighting one another. Deep-green walls surrounded the suits of armor—walls that felt cold and lifeless, just like the suits of armor.

  “I…don’t know,” Mary finally answered, managing to find her voice.

  “Let’s get out of—” Betty began to plead but
ended her sentence before completing her last word. She spun around and faced the door. “I hear footsteps,” she whispered.

  Mary grabbed Betty’s hand and ran her to the far corner of the room and ducked behind two suits of armor. Seconds later, the door burst open. A shadowy figure appeared in the doorway, quickly examined the room, and then slammed the door closed.

  “The killer,” Mary whispered, feeling her heart racing inside of her chest.

  “Wearing a dark…was that a cloak?” Betty asked in a shaky voice.

  “I think so.” Mary eased up to her legs and carefully studied the room. “The killer didn’t see us. I think we’re safe for now.”

  Betty wanted to remain hidden but decided to follow Mary back out into the room. “Mary?” she asked in a scared voice.

  “Yes?”

  “The person we just saw…seemed shorter than Cousin Brenda,” Betty pointed out.

  Mary kept her eyes on the door. “I noticed the same thing.”

  “Cousin Brenda is tall,” Betty continued, keeping her voice low.

  “Exactly right,” Mary agreed. She turned and looked at Betty’s scared face. “Could it be that Cousin Brenda isn’t the killer?” she asked in a desperate voice, feeling the fog of confusion roll back into her already troubled mind.

  Betty didn’t know how to answer Mary. All she wanted was a warm cup of tea, a nice bedtime sandwich, and a soft bed. And because she didn’t know how to answer her best friend, she decided to ask a question instead: “Does this mean Cousin Brenda is in danger?”

  “I…don’t know,” Mary answered in a strained voice. She threw her eyes around the creepy room. “I honestly believed Cousin Brenda was the killer…assuming the man we’re searching for is dead. But now…oh, I just don’t know.” Mary rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand. “One thing is for certain.”