The Haunting Of Bechdel Mansion (7 page)

“Bob Deckers,” he said, surprised.

Mary turned her head. There was a man in
suit standing under the canopy of a building behind them. “Who?”
she asked.

“That’s the guy who sold us the mansion.
Must be his realtor office,” Curtis said. He opened his door and
stepped out as Mary put on her sun hat and exited the car, her
sandals touching the hot pavement.

They walked to the rear of the car where
Curtis maintained his attention on the man by the building. He
looked to be in his fifties with gray slicked black hair, darkly
tan and lighting a cigarette. “Let’s go talk to him,” Curtis said,
taking her hand. “I want to ask him about leasing some space.”

Mary stayed in place and politely moved her
hand away. “You talk to him, honey. I want to check and see if the
library is open.” The truth was that she was lost in her thoughts
and didn’t feel like talking to a lot of people at the moment. She
didn’t want to be rude, but it was a feeling she couldn’t deny.

Curtis turned, frustrated but understanding.
“At least come say hi to the man. He really helped us out.”

“Later,” Mary said. “I promise.”

Curtis shook his head. “All right. Don’t go
far.”

“I’ll meet you at the library,” she said,
waving.

“Sure thing,” Curtis said, waving back. She
watched as he hurried to the building calling out Bob’s name and
shaking his hand. Bob looked startled and surprised to see him. His
lips then moved upward to form a big gaping smile as Curtis
continued talking. The exchanged words and then Bob slapped Curtis
on the back, opening the door to his office and leading him inside.
Mary felt free to walk through the town on her own to get a feel of
the place. Someone had to have the answers she needed.

What had her visions meant? Was it all
really in her head? She was, in fact, a believer in the
supernatural. She had seen too many strange things her entire life,
but had always suppressed her ability to do so—from as far back as
a teenager. There was a lot Curtis didn’t know about from back
then, and she was determined to keep it that way.

She approached the sidewalk and moved past
the pizza place, passing a closed consignment shop and next door
art gallery. Redwood seemed to have a little of everything, and she
was excited to see a crafts store with art supplies in the window.
It was closed as well, but she made a note to stock up later. A few
people passed her by as she smiled and nodded, but there weren’t
near as many people out as the previous day.

She heard a church bell toll as the library
came into distance—a long gray building with a flat roof and large
tinted windows. It was surrounded by vertical metal railing and
nicely trimmed bushes. She didn’t see anyone around the building,
but something told her to keep going. The open gate in the center
was a good sign.

As she walked past a closed bar, a woman
stepped into her path from an alley, scaring the hell out of her.
She was old and frazzled-looking with a long, dirty and plain dress
about two sizes too large for her that concealed her feet and a
green jacket. She was seemingly intoxicated as well. Mary froze as
her heart skipped a beat.

“Oh my God! You startled me,” she said,
carefully moving around the woman.

The woman stared her down, not saying a
word, with her gray hair sprouted in all directions. She wore
bright red lipsticks amidst the heavy bags under her glazed eyes.
As Mary passed, the woman turned to her with a long finger in the
air.

“You… You and your husband,” she said in a
low, scratchy voice.

Mary stopped and turned around, facing the
woman dumbfounded. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve made a terrible mistake,” the woman
said.

Mary stepped forward, angered. “What are you
talking about? You know my husband?”

“You don’t belong here. Outsider…” she
hissed with contempt. Any normal person would have walked away from
the woman, considering her crazy, but Mary felt a strong urge to
probe her ramblings further.

“Tell me what you know,” she said.

The woman shook her head, lost in her own
thoughts. She looked as though she had just crawled out of a paper
bag, but there was something even stranger than her appearance. She
exhibited a certain wisdom, concealed behind endless wrinkles and
dirty layers of clothing.

The woman opened her mouth to speak when a
man approached her from behind and placed a hand on her shoulders.
“That’s all right, Evelyn, let’s take you home.”

The woman jumped as Mary stood there in
wonder. The man looked up at Mary, clean-shaven with a smile on his
face. He had thick white hair, neatly brushed to the side. His
dark-blue three-piece suit was a stark contrast to the woman’s
tattered and oversized clothes.

“Hi, I’m Phil,” he said, extending his
hand.

Mary nodded and shook his hand. “I’m Mary.
Nice to meet you.”

The woman looked down and mumbled to
herself, her train of thought broken.

“I apologize if ol’ Evelyn gave you a scare.
She wandered from the retirement home again.” He squeezed the
woman’s shoulder. “She’s been gone all night. The staff has been
worried sick.”

Mary smiled. “Well, I’m glad she has
somewhere to go.”

The man narrowed his eyes in curiosity at
her. “You and your husband just moved here, correct?”

“Wow. Word gets around,” she said.

“It sure does,” Phil responded.

“That’s correct,” she said. “We arrived
yesterday.”

“And you’re staying in the old mansion,
eh?”

“We are. It—It’s been interesting so far,”
she said.

Phil smiled again, exposing bright white
teeth. “I certainly hope you get settled in okay.” He paused for a
moment and stepped closer to Mary as Evelyn rocked in place
muttering. “I’m the pastor at the First Christ Church of Redwood.
Pastor Phil they call me. I sure hope you and your husband can
attend our services sometime.”

Mary nodded politely with a smile.

Realizing that he may have been a bit
forward, Phil backtracked. “That is… if you’re practicing members
of the faith.”

“I’m sure we’d love to check it out
sometime,” she said.

Phil snapped his fingers as though recalling
something. “We’re having our annual summer Barbecue next week.
Y’all should come on out and see everyone.”

“That sounds… really nice,” she said.

Seeming satisfied, Phil turned back to
Evelyn and took her by the hand. “It was nice meeting you Mrs.
Malone, but I gotta take ol’ Evelyn here back home.”

“Pleasure meeting you as well,” she said,
though she didn’t recall telling him her last name.

He waved and walked off with Evelyn in tow
and then turned around, calling out to Mary. “I look forward to
meeting your husband!”

Mary waved back and watched as they moved
across the crosswalk to the other side of the road. A few cars
passed as she stood there thinking about the woman’s words. They
could have been the ramblings of a mentally damaged woman, or they
could mean something more. She turned back to the library, reading
to investigate and uncover whatever was behind the creeping
strangeness that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

Chapter Seven

Unearthed

Mary was glad to see that the library was,
in fact, open. There were a few rooms with rows of old bookshelves
and several empty chairs and tables in the center for patrons to
sit and read at. There was an older man at the check-out table
sitting on a stool reading a newspaper. He wore a checkered
button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and looked up at Mary
as she walked in with his rectangular-shaped glasses resting on the
tip of his nose. Inside, the library was eerily quiet as sunlight
shined through the cracks of blinds of surrounding windows. She
found the vintage aesthetic of the white plaster walls and faded
red carpet before her comforting but also felt nervous being the
only person there—so she thought.

“Good morning,” she said to the man,
approaching his counter.

His wrinkled face gave her a polite smile
and he eyed her like the complete stranger she was. His black,
thinning was slicked back and his skinny neck hung down in folds.
He appeared frail and skinny, and when he spoke, she detected a
northeastern accent. Like her, she assumed that everyone in town
was from somewhere else at one point, or maybe families had been in
Redwood for generations. It was exactly what she intended to find
out with the time she had to look around.

“Morning,” he said back. “Welcome to the
Redwood Public Library.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking around. “I
wasn’t sure if you were open today or not.”

“Seven days a week. My wife, Sheila, and I
hold the place down.”

A mom and pop
library?
Mary thought. Now she had seen everything.
“That’s great,” she said. She didn’t want to point out the empty
tables and aisles but the man seemed to have read her
mind.

“Sundays are our slowest in the morning. Big
church community and all. By afternoon we usually get a good
crowd,” he said.

Mary approached the counter and placed her
hands flat on its mahogany surface. “I’m Mary. My husband and I
just moved here from Chicago. I’d like to get a library card if I
could please.”

The man nodded and leaned down, retrieving a
large, dusty binder and setting on the counter. “All right, Mary,
I’m Hal. I’m sure we can get you set up.” There was an old computer
next to him, but he didn’t seem interested in using it. He asked
her full name as well as her driver’s license.

She pulled her pocketbook out from her purse
and opened it. “Oh. It still has my old address on it.”

“That’s fine,” he said, taking her license.
“Just let me know the new one.”

He began scribbling onto a sheet in the open
binder, taking down Mary’s name. The subdued quietness of the
library alone had her thinking that she’d be spending a lot of time
within its walls. “I live at 513 Weatherford Lane,” she said.

Hal stopped writing as his looked up at her.
“Weatherford Lane? The old Bechdel mansion?”

She was surprised that he made the
connection so carefully. Perhaps the mansion had a reputation all
its own. That much seemed evident in the few interactions she had
experienced so far in town. “Yes, that would be the place,” she
said.

His eyes immediately went back down as he
continued writing. “Didn’t think that place would ever sell,” he
said.

Curious, Mary leaned in closer. “And why is
that?”

Hal looked up again, taken off guard. “Well,
it’s just… It’s an old place. Too big for most people. Not really
practical in today’s modern world.”

“But it’s so inexpensive,” Mary said. “Hard
to believe they’d have a hard time selling it.”

Hal tore a slip from the paper neatly around
the edges and handed it to Mary. “I wouldn’t know. Just seems it
was held up in probate for God knows how long.” He then handed her
a pen. “Sign the card here and you’re all good to go.”

Mary took the card and signed it, not
entirely satisfied with what he was willing or not willing to
reveal. “Mister?” she paused waiting.

“Hal. Just call me Hal,” she said, sitting
back down on his stool.

“Hal. I don’t want to be too forward, but
part of why I came here was to get information.”

Hal went for his newspaper and the paused,
looking up with an arched brow. “What kind of information?”

“About the Bechdel mansion and its history.
The history of this town. I want to find out exactly what happened
there and why the murders were never solved.”

Hal leaned back with his arms crossed more
reserved than before. “You some kind of reporter? We get some of
them from time to time, come around here asking questions and
all.”

“No, I can assure you that—”

Hal cut her off with one arm in the air,
pointing. “Because if you are trying to dig up some dirt under
false pretenses, I’d like you to kindly leave.”

Mary shuffled on the carpet, eager to
set the record straight. “Sir. I am not a reporter. My husband
and
I
did just move into the
mansion. I’m just curious about its history.”

“Oh…” he said, calming down. “I see. Well
you can’t blame me for being suspect. Folks at Redwood don’t bother
anyone. They just want to live in a nice, safe community. We’re not
spectacles for big city types to come down here and judge us. I
think you can respect that.”

“I can,” Mary said. “This is the exact kind
of community my husband and I were looking for.”

“It’s a long shot from Chicago, ma’am. I can
tell you that.”

She felt restrained from revealing anything
more to the man and making him even more suspicious. She wanted to
tell someone about the visions she had, the unsettling feeling the
mansion gave her, and her overall apprehensiveness, but Hal seemed
all business, and that’s exactly how she decided to proceed.

“Can you direct me to nonfiction, please? As
I said before, I’d like to read some history about the town.”

“Plenty of books over there?” he said,
pointing to a row of wooden shelves in the corner across the room.
“Lots of local authors there.” He then paused and looked up,
pushing his glasses back. “Of course, if it’s records you’re
looking for, you might want to visit the courthouse. They got an
office of records there dating back a hundred some odd years.”

Great
, Mary
thought. She was beginning to have her work cut out for
her.

“But you do have a newspaper archive here,
correct?” she asked.

“Sure do,” Hal replied. He then paused and
eyed her suspiciously again. “You sure you’re not a reporter.” Her
face went flush as she placed her hands on the counter, ready to
launch into Hal for his unwarranted suspicions. He took quick
notice and reversed course with a laugh. “I’m sorry. Can never be
too sure around here.” He pointed to a darkened room to side left
behind panels of glass where stacks of newspaper where piled on
shelves. “That’s our news room there.”