McCann's Manor (6 page)

An exquisite wrought metal staircase spiraled up on either side of the window-walls to two levels of narrow walkways leading around the room in front of the bookshelves to give easier access to the books. In the center of the room stood a huge square old desk that matched the paneling and was carved in elaborate motifs of ivy leaves and wood nymphs.

John observed the two women a moment before speaking, “I can see the room appeals to you two as much as it always has to me."

"Who takes care of the place?” Liz asked, trying to bring herself into the moment.

"Oh, I engaged a team of workers from Austin to come out once a week. They come early on Saturday morning and leave the place gleaming before dark. There are about twenty of them and they hit here like a cleaning cyclone, inside and out and then they are gone again."

"That must cost a bundle!” Kim said.

"Well, it isn't too bad and that way Betty is assured the place has been seen to at least once a week. She likes to think of it as being cared for. I'm afraid we have neglected the outdoors, though. The old gardener died and I haven't been able to find another who would care for the place the way it needs to be tended."

"Kim and I like gardening; maybe we can whip it into shape again,” Liz said. She found herself wondering once again why Betty cared so much for the house if everything John had told her was true. She let John lead her out of the library and on through the hall to yet another mammoth open room.

"The living room,” John announced before sitting down in a nearby chair. “To your right is the kitchen and dining room. Above that area is another bedroom suite on the second floor and a conservatory on the third floor. Both the conservatory and the second floor bedroom suite have the same bay windows."

The living room also had a huge native limestone-trimmed fireplace that commanded the entire north end of the room. The east wall was made up of the same type of heavy leaded beveled glass windows as the den, three on either side of a huge sliding glass door clearly not of the same period. “The Tatums put in the sliding glass door in?” Kim asked.

"Yes,” John answered, “They had it custom made to be as close to the original glass as possible, but it still stands out, doesn't it? Since they were adding decking on three sides of the house on the first and second floors, they wanted a showy entrance that went out onto the custom deck.

"They had this Italian glass manufacturer make all the glass doors they added and the glass tiles they used upstairs in the bedrooms and bathrooms. He also made smaller bay windows for the solarium on the third floor. He did an incredible job, but the original windows are so much older that the newer ones still look a bit out of place. Maybe in another two hundred years they will all look the same.” He shifted in his chair.

Kim took a few moments to scan the room. Every room she had seen had the same deep cherry bookshelves and built-in cabinetry. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. The furniture was all ornate, antique and high quality. The hardwood floors were immaculate with plush Oriental area rugs scattered here and there. “Are there hardwood floors on all three levels?” she asked.

"The Tatums carpeted the upper two levels, except the solarium, since they had parties and dances and the like up there. They put marble in the bathrooms. These floors down here have been refinished. The solarium has the finest parquet flooring I have ever seen in the middle with an elegant dark marble around the edges,” he explained, as though he had memorized a realtor's spiel about the house.

He looked like a frightened little boy, Liz thought, as he sat there, his hands folded, scanning the room.
What was he looking for?
She asked, “John, you said you stayed here for a while yourself?"

"Yes, that's right; I was here for almost six weeks before it got to me,” he admitted.

Liz sat in a plush chair opposite him, looked around the room. Aside from seeming a bit on the sterile side, the room felt comfortable and inviting to her. She looked at Kim, who was also surveying the chamber with interest. “What
got to you
about it?"

He tensed and she thought she saw him shiver as he looked at her again. “Oh, the noises, the boot prints in the hall, the nightmares ... take your pick. I just couldn't handle being here anymore. I still get a little bent out of shape when I have to come over here."

Liz raised her eyebrows. “A
little
, yes I can see that! Tell me about the boot prints in the hall."

He reflected a moment before he spoke. His eyes glazed a bit as he began, “Muddy boot prints. No matter what you do, they keep showing up in the hall, there. The noises you
could
say are just the sounds of an old house creaking and popping as the place cools at night, maybe; nightmares, you can attribute to your own overwrought mind, but the boot prints; they have to have been made by
someone
—someone not
living
, because they start out of nowhere and lead to nowhere, like a spirit suddenly materialized and then dematerialized again."

Liz thought a moment. She could tell he was very upset at the thought of the boot prints; in fact, being in this house had a palpable effect on him and she didn't want to further disturb him by suggesting the boot prints were nothing to be upset about. “Is that the only visible manifestation you have seen?"

"There's a cat sometimes, but the cat doesn't bother me. The boot prints, though ...
whoever
he was, he bothers me a lot. He isn't any kind of a nice little ghost, you know? He is menacing."

"How often did you notice the prints?” Kim asked.

"At first, it didn't happen often. I think once in the first ten days I was here; then it was more often. Before I gave up and left, they would be there every time I went down the hall, even if I had just cleaned them up thirty minutes before. I know, it makes me sound like a coward or a lunatic, but I got to the point I just couldn't stand to go near the hall.” He shivered more noticeably this time, rubbed his hands together, stood and paced the floor.

"No, I understand your feelings. It is obvious the spirit was trying to communicate something to you, and it may well have been trying to scare you,” Liz said.

He laughed. “Well, it succeeded. In fact, now, having you two here and being able to reconsider it, I think it was a bad idea bringing you here. I don't want you to get hurt, not even to save Betty's house and ease her mind. Let's get out of here; I'm sorry I asked you to come,” he said, clipping the words.

Kim shrugged her shoulders, looked around. “Not so fast, John. I would like to look around a little more before I make up my mind. Would that be okay with you?"

John sighed, threw his hands up in the air. “Everyone always wants to stick around and look at everything; it never does any good. I have to get out of here. I'll wait for you at the car if you want to look around. Take your time, but if you get into trouble in here, I don't think you can count on me to help you out.” Having said that, he sped from the room, down the hall and through the front door, which was still open.

Kim and Liz looked at one another, shrugged. “Wow,” Kim said, “he seems honestly scared."

Liz nodded, looked around the room. “Yes, he does. Too bad; I like the house, myself. Gee, can you imagine us, owning a place like this?” she asked.

Kim chuckled. “
Imagine
it, yes; believe it, no."

"I know! Did you get a gander at that library? There must be ten thousand books in there."

"Yes, it's enormous. I couldn't believe you just skimmed over it to come all the way down the hall. What were you thinking?” Kim asked.

Liz smiled. “I wondered if you would follow me or stop—and you did follow, surprisingly enough,” she said.

Kim sighed, “Oh, really? I didn't realize it was a test. Did I pass or fail?"

Liz laughed, answered, “It wasn't that kind of test; just curious is all. I know how you love books. Let's go look, but remember, we mustn't leave John outside too long. He's liable to take off without us."

The two women made their way back down the hall to the library. Inside, they found a vaulted ceiling that spanned the full height of the three stories of the house. A number of the ornate bookshelves were empty of books.
Good
, Liz thought,
plenty of room for our own books here.

She noticed several titles that caught her eye, books she was sure must be first edition prints, when a large portrait of a young woman hanging on the wall beside the entrance into the room drew her attention. It was a modern picture, painted in the fifties or sixties from the looks of it, and mounted in an elaborate golden frame hanging to the left of the door. The hairstyle and clothing were clearly too current to be Betty in her youth, although the girl bore a striking resemblance to Betty when she had been a young starlet; then it dawned on Liz.
This is a portrait of Missy, Betty's daughter.
She gasped as she looked at the brown haired, blue-eyed woman that stared back so lifelike at her. “Missy!"

"What?” Kim glanced up from a section of the books that had drawn her attention. She walked over to where Liz stood spellbound. “Liz, you look like you have seen a ghost."

Liz nodded without taking her eyes from the portrait, said, “I have, Kim ...
Oh, I have
!"

"What are you talking about?"

Liz swallowed hard and turned to her friend. “You remember the dream about the young woman who was thrown out of the window to her death by some unseen assailant?"

"Yes?"

"Kim,
this
is the girl! This portrait must have been made shortly before..."

"Are you sure? I mean, how do you know what she looked like? Couldn't the girl in the dream just have looked
something
like this?"

Liz was shaking herself as though trying to wake from a dream even now. “In the dream, I
was
Missy, Kim. When I saw this portrait just now, it was like I had an entire flashback of her life ... and her death. Kim, she must have known we would be coming here. She wants us to know something. John said she committed suicide in a mental institution; they all think she killed herself. She wants us to set the record straight for her."

"Oooh,” Kim whispered, “I got a chill when you said that! This is pretty creepy!"

Liz returned to staring at the portrait, as though in a trance. After a few moments she spoke again. “There is something else ... the
reason
she was killed ... she wants us to know that and to bring it to light."

"Well, what is it?"

Liz reached out and touched the portrait, traced the carvings of the frame, lost in thought. “I'm not sure. I think it has something to do with her father's death, but I'm not clear on anything yet. I do know this is not the only mysterious thing to happen here. This old place houses a passel of mysteries and ghosts. We will have our hands full with this one!"

Kim arched her eyebrow at Liz. “You have made up your mind about staying haven't you?"

Liz tore herself from the portrait, smiled at Kim, drew a deep breath, “I want to do it. How about you?"

Kim returned her smile. “Stop holding your breath; of course I do! I don't think I could walk away from it now."

"Oh, good,” sighed Liz. “I was hoping you'd feel that way."

"Are you kidding? How crazy do you think I am? Would I walk away from all these books? There are some real gems here; did you see all these books on the occult?"

Liz chuckled, crossed the floor toward the section of shelves Kim had indicated. “Wow, these
are
old. You don't find books like this anymore!"

"I know. In fact, I have never seen anything like some of these, but I have heard some of the titles mentioned in other writings as ‘rare and impossible to find now.’ This is incredible!"

"Yes, it is. It is almost like someone sat down and asked themselves what we would want to get us here and then they put it all here for us to find,
an offer we couldn't refuse
, so to speak,” Liz said.

"That is way too weird! I'd rather think we were just destined to come here. And speaking of weird, what is your take on the recurring muddy boot prints in the hall?"

"So far I'm trying to reserve my opinion on that, but I'm sure we'll find out all about them soon enough. What do
you
think?"

"Yeah, I imagine you are right on that one. As for the
specter
cat, Spooky and Ghost are bound to enjoy that! Let's go tell John; I can hardly wait to move in!” Kim said.

John had been driving in silence for quite a while, shaking his head every few minutes as Kim and Liz talked over their upcoming move. At last he spoke to them, saying, “I can't believe the two of you are so excited about moving into that place. Didn't it make you feel creepy just to be there?"

Liz smiled at him and said, “I think I felt a lot like Betty Tatum must have felt the first time
she
saw it. The place has a lot of old wounds and many secrets, but so do I. I'm looking forward to delving into the mysteries it hides."

"Yeah, I guess I felt that way, too, in the beginning, but after I was there a while,
for-get-it
! You two are a couple of brave ladies,” he said.

Kim shook her head, “I have a question, John."

"Yes?"

"How much of what is in the house goes with it? I mean, if we
were
to fulfill the terms of the contract and it became ours, what would stay there?"

"Why, all of it would be yours. Why do you think so many people have tried to stay there? There is a small fortune in antiques, rare books and artifacts in that house and Betty has stipulated it will all go to whomever can
heal
the place. Even if there isn't any gold, you would still come out of the deal quite wealthy, should you fulfill the terms of the contract."

Liz pondered his words a while before speaking, “You know, John, this place is too good to be true."

John frowned. “Yes, you say that now, but it is also too
bad
to be true. You'll learn that for yourselves soon enough. Other people
have died
in that place, you know, besides Leonard Tatum. Several people have lost their minds. No one who goes inside is ever the same again, even if they do manage to leave with their sanity and their lives intact."