#1 The Haunting Of The Hyde Park Manor

The day started like it always does, with me pretending I don’t see the weird stains on the ceiling at my favorite smoothie place, Juice The Facts Ma’am. Ignacio, who looks like an anthropomorphic English Mastiff, was blending my mystery box smoothie when I heard the front door open. In walks this brunette. I did a quick once over. A bright pink Vineyard Vines button up shirt with some fraying near the collar. A shiny golden tennis bracelet that glinted with diamonds. Pleated tan chinos. A string of unpolished pearls. Prada sandals with a little wear and tear. Leather Gucci purse. Forehead wrinkles that her thick layer of foundation just couldn’t hide. A slight hunch to the shoulders and a subtle twitch in the eye. Boy, she had seen better days. 

“Oh my God, are you Carolyn Frost?” Her voice was unsteady.

Now, would you believe it? I was Carolyn Frost, but as I looked at this woman desperately trying to pretend that she wasn’t totally out of place East of 22nd St, it did force the question, how did she know I was Carolyn Frost? I responded as anyone would.

“You a cop?”

“No.”

“You with the IRS?”

“Is that a joke?”

“You think there’s something funny about the IRS?”

“No, that’s not, I’m not,” she held out her hand and broke her face into a painfully wide smile. “I’m Elizabeth. I listen to Frozen Cold Cases all the time. It’s my favorite. I tried going to a live show once, but I couldn’t get in.”

“Oh! A fan! Then yeah, I’m me.”

I shook her hand back and put on my best “thank-you-for-paying-my-bills” smile. She dropped my hand and gripped the strap of her purse. I started to probe.

“So, not to be rude or anything, but what are you doing here? I think I’m the only person who actually comes to this place. Sorry, Ignacio.”

She moved her hair behind her ear as her smile melted into a thin grim line. “I, uh, need your help. I’ve been trying to get in contact, but you didn’t answer my emails and you don’t have social media anything so … I remember in one episode, the one about the Crab Man, you said that this was your favorite place so I’ve sort of been coming around and … I think I’m not … my Great Aunt’s house is being haunted and I want you to solve it.”

Well, that was certainly not what I expected. “Haunted how?”

“So, are you going to take the case?”

“Depends on how haunted it is. I have been a little bored lately. It might be nice to have some Scooby-Doo style fun. So, what happened and when did it start?”

“First, things started to go missing a month ago. The first thing missing was Aunt Constance’s little pearl brooch. Then it was a slip. Then a jacket. A blouse. Then a necklace and a ring and another necklace and a watch. At first I thought maybe she was just … you have to understand, she’s 84. And being the only person to take care of an 84-year-old, I thought maybe she was just misplacing things, but then things of mine started to go missing. Notebooks. Papers. Clothes. Jewelry. That’s, uh, why I never take this off.” She held out her bracelet.

“I saw you looking at it. It was a graduation gift. I’d hate it if something were to happen to it. So, first the objects went missing, and then the drafts started about three weeks ago. It is a little chillier outside, I’ll admit, but the house has been in our family since the 1900s and has never been drafty before. My aunt asked me, why did the drafts start now? And I didn’t have anything to say to that. Then there were the flickering lights and the noises. My aunt says she hears screams at night. Screams and crying and people calling her name.”

“And do you hear anything?”

“No.” Her eyes darted around the shop as if she was looking for a ghost. “I almost wish I did just so I could tell her that I heard them too. But the big thing was the bloody water.”

I hate to say it, but I felt my entire body light up. I’m not saying a thieving ghost with an interest in electricity who occasionally wants to practice vocal exercises isn’t interesting, but bloody water? That’s something worth investigating. I guess she could see the shift in me because the words started spilling out of her.

“That was last Sunday. We were eating dinner and my aunt started coughing so I went to the tap to get her some water, and when I turned it on it was bright blood red. I screamed and then she came in and she saw it too. That’s when I knew I had to find you.”

Ignacio came by and slid me my smoothie. I took a swig. Mint peanut butter lime. Delicious. The mad genius had done it again. I began bobbing my head.

“Do you think it’s a ghost?”

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Agree to disagree, but whatever. So, if it’s not a ghost, who wants to haunt your aunt?” 

I watched her swish the words around in her mouth. She spoke very slowly. “I have an idea, but I don’t want to say. In case I influence you. I think, if you’re as good of a detective as I think you are, I don’t think you’ll really need my help in that department.”

I nodded. Fair enough. “When can I get in there and start poking around?”

She sighed like a weight had been flung off her. Her face looked a little less grim. “We’re having dinner tonight with my aunt’s friend, Timothy. I think that’ll be the perfect time. Um, I know you’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart or anything, and I will pay you, but right now money isn’t so … easy to come by. I swear I’ll pay you, but maybe we can do it via payment plan. Do you take Klarna—”

“Elizabeth, let me solve the thing first, then we’ll talk about money.”

***

Before I lived in my perilously small apartment, I used to live in an even smaller RV. That means I’m used to homes the size of parking spaces. Elizabeth and her aunt’s home was the size of a parking lot. Rust-red bricks swooping up to the sky. A wide front porch decorated with rocking chairs. Bright emerald green grass cleaner than a boot camp buzz cut. Stark white window frames with glittering stained glass windows. As someone who spends a lot of time on Zillow when they’re supposed to be sleeping, I’d guess the house had to be two or three million dollars.

I took the stoop stairs two at a time and knocked on the door. After a minute it creaked open and a leathery woman in a kaftan stared out at me with milky blue eyes.

“Hi, I’m Carolyn. Carolyn Frost. Elizabeth invited me.”

I watched as a knowing smile crept up her face. I wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge the hug she gave me.

“So this is why she’s never had a man. Hmm. Still, I thought she would have liked to tell me though. It’s not as if I’m a total stranger to this sort of thing. Back in my hippie days, I lived in a commune and we, well … maybe that’s a story for later. Call me Constance, dear. So, you’re the one my niece has been calling and texting for all these months?”

I shimmied out of her embrace and took a slight step back. “No. I’m the detective.”

“The what?”

Lucky for us both, Elizabeth bounded up to the front door. She swung the front door open as wide as it could go and pulled me past her aunt saying, “This is the detective from that show I’m always listening to, remember? I invited her over to help with our ghost problem.” Then turning to me, “Go right through there.” She closed the door as she pointed me to the dining room. 

I noticed her aunt’s warm demeanor had shifted to something cooler. “There is no trick here, Elizabeth, that your pet detective can solve. The simple fact is that a ghost is present no matter how much you can’t stand that conclusion. Now Miss … Frost was it? I will kindly ask you to leave.”

“Oh, that's a shame.” I hung my head. “I was really looking forward to having a nice home cooked meal. Usually I don’t eat anything that doesn’t come out of a microwave.” I bowed my head and half-closed my eyes, looking the most pathetic I have ever looked. 

I could see Constance fighting with herself and then she said, “Alright, fine.” 

Bingo. Hospitality beats annoyance every time. 

“We’re in the middle of dinner, so you can help yourself to everything.”

“Thank you, Ms. Constance. I really appreciate it.”

I followed Elizabeth and her aunt to the dining room. Considering the outside of the house, I was not shocked to find a solid oak dining table that could easily fit 12 people in the center of the room. There was one man already sitting down. He was sharp, bony, and dark. Shiny pitch black hair and coal-dark eyes stark against his paper-pale skin interrupted by wrists and cheekbones sharp enough to slice through rope. I wasn’t sure if he was anemic, half-dead, or the most dedicated goth on the planet. 

“And who is this lovely specimen, dear Constance?” He spoke as if every word were a whisper. 

“My niece's detective.” Constance sniffed.

Elizabeth jumped in. “She’s going to solve the mystery of the haunting, Timothy.” 

Timothy stared past me, as if he were looking through my body. “I think you’ll find that a mere mortal is poorly equipped to solve the mysteries of the dead.”

“I don’t doubt that you’re right. Ooh, are those mashed potatoes?” I sat down and began helping myself to at least one scoop of everything. I wasn’t lying, it had been too long since I’d had a home cooked meal. Elizabeth sat next to me, and Constance sat next to Timothy. We ate in a painful, stilted silence until I broke it. 

“So, how do you know Ms. Constance, Timothy, old chap?”

He gently put down his fork and took off his glasses to clean them. “Constance and I met at a shop of oddities. We both wished to buy some rose quartz and we struck up a conversation. Now I am in her employ.”

Constance gripped his hand, and I saw a limp but happy smile curl its way up Timothy’s face. “We also happened to become very good friends. He’s a rather good listener, which isn’t surprising considering what he does. I don’t know how I’d survive without him.”

“I’m here, Aunt Constance,” Elizabeth said. 

“Yes of course, dear.”

“Doing what?” I asked.

They all turned to me. It was honestly a little unnerving. 

“You said he was in your employ and that he’s a good listener considering what he does, so what does he do?”

Elizabeth perked up a bit. She wiggled to sit up straight in her chair and cleared her throat in a totally unnecessary way. (Yes, it did make me laugh a little.) “Why, Timothy, here, is a medium. He speaks to the spirits and lets them tell my great aunt anything.” 

I watched Constance’s mouth tighten. 

“In fact,” Elizabeth continued, “do you have a card on you, Timothy? I’m sure Carolyn would be able to solve twice as many cases if she could have someone talk to the dead.”

“Unfortunately, my wallet is still unaccounted for, but if you would like my services, Miss, I would be happy to help. I have been looking for more work as of late.”

I shrugged. I don’t think solving crimes would be any fun if I could just ask who did it. But before I could respond, Constance jumped in.

“Surely you wouldn’t want to do that, Timothy. That would mean less time here with me.”

Elizabeth spoke before Timothy could. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. He does have a life of his own, Aunt Constance.”

“That’s not…..Elizabeth, dear, did I take my iron pill today? I can’t remember.”

Elizabeth looked a little thrown off by the sudden change in topic. “Yes, you took it about an hour ago.”

“Really? I’m having the hardest time keeping track. I fear I’ve been taking double doses. I’m almost out of pills, but I bought a new bottle last month. And I’ve already taken one today? Oh dear.”

I quietly watched this odd trio as I ate another helping of peas. Suddenly, the house was plunged into darkness. Only the sunlight, dressed in color thanks to the stained glass, broke the blackness in the room. Constance gasped and I even heard Timothy and Elizabeth go unnaturally quiet. I was just about to stand and go to the lightswitch when I felt a cold breeze slip across my neck. I shuddered. The air smelled of smoke. Something was very wrong. And just as quickly as they went off, the lights came back on. 

We could only look at each other. Elizabeth was the first to snap back to normal. She cleared her throat and asked if Timothy could pass some more wine. He obliged, but Aunt Constance was still obviously thinking about the strange happening that had just occurred. And so was I.

“Did anyone else smell smoke?” I asked.

“Smoke?” Constance's high-pitched voice echoed me. She began to look around, as if a fire could be hiding behind any nook or cranny.

“Smoke? No, I …” Timothy paused. “Could you have been smelling this?” He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me.  I pressed my nose into it. Pine. Cinnamon. Smoke. I handed it back to him and nodded. 

“My cologne. Eau de Forêt. Apologies.”

Elizabeth said, “Ahh, yes, why not spend my aunt’s retirement money on $70 bottles of cologne that make you smell like a forest fire.”

I could already feel the atmosphere slipping back to that stilted tension and I quickly excused myself to the bathroom. Of course I didn’t need to use the bathroom, I just needed to snoop, but few people are prepared for that level of radical honesty. 

I felt the best place to start looking was the place where the haunting began, in Constance’s closet. I tiptoed across the old wood floors hoping not to be heard. Slinking past closed doors and ancient yellow wallpaper, I slid past a window and slowed down when I saw the gentle flutter of the window curtain.

I held my hand near the bottom and felt a soft breeze poking through. I opened the window as quietly as I could and saw at the bottom that the rubber lining had been chipped away a little too cleanly for it to be the natural result of age. Without the rubber sealing wind would easily come in, no doubt creating a draft. I shut the window again and took a deep breath. The scent of pine was so strong I had to cough. Curious. 

I continued on, opening each door hoping it would be the master suite. 

Finally, I found it. I slipped in and gently shut the door behind me. It was a lush room filled with a lifetime of good memories. If I’d had a little more time I would have snooped through everything, but I went straight to the closet. (See, I can be responsible.)

I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for. I was thinking maybe a door or some sort of way for someone to sneak into the house. How else could someone get into a second story closet  out without being seen? I dug through the mounds of hung clothes and the boxes on the floor, when I saw a flash of black leather out the corner of my eye. I sunk to the ground and dug behind the hat boxes. Guess what I saw? A thin black leather wallet. I didn’t even need to open it to know exactly who it belonged to. But that made it even worse. 

Too many things just didn’t make sense. 

I knew they were probably starting to notice how long I had been gone, but I didn’t care. Elizabeth had brought a truly interesting problem to my attention. In fact, I think it was more interesting than she thought it would be. I sank to the lush carpet and began to think and think and think and then, like lighting, the truth struck me. 

I solved it.

***

I barreled down the stairs without a single thought to those people eating their meal. I could hear them shouting as I stood up on a chair and started unscrewing the glass bowl over the light fixture, but I didn’t much care. I handed off the bowl to Timothy.

“What are you doing!” Constance screamed.

“I’m seeing something.” I touched the lightbulb and it nearly fell out. I knew it would. I screwed the lightbulb in and watched the lights stay strong and bright. I grabbed the glass bowl from Timothy and started screwing the bowl back in.

“Would you mind telling us what you’re doing, Miss Frost?” Timothy’s whisper escalated to a hoarse shout. 

“I would love to, Timothy.” I hopped to the floor and began to pace. “See, this has been a lot of fun for me. I think Elizabeth is the only person here who listens to my show, so you two won’t know this, but I love this kind of thing. It’s like my brain is always buzzing and full of noise, but mysteries give me something to focus on. Like a baby with a pacifier, they just quiet it down. It’s amazing. And this, this whole situation you’ve brought me has made everything so quiet. So, thank you Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth shot a confused glance to her aunt. “Um, you’re welcome.”

“At first it was almost too easy. You know? Boring. Flickering lights? Loose light bulb. Cold breeze? The rubber liner on the window is missing. You know, dumb easy stuff, but then, I found this—” I pulled out the wallet. Timothy’s eyes grew comically large. Constance’s brows furrowed.

“That’s Timothy’s. How did you get it?” Constance asked without looking at me.

“It was in your closet.” I tossed the wallet back to its owner.

“And why were you in Constance’s closet?” Timothy pointed at me, but no one paid attention. 

Constance turned to him. “Timothy? What is this?”

Elizabeth’s voice grew shrill “You were stealing from my aunt?”

“No. I would never—”

“And we haven’t even gotten to the window curtain,” I said.

Constance turned back to me. “What’s wrong with my window curtains?”

I shrugged. “They smell just like his cologne. It’s really strong.”

Constance’s face went gray. Her hand shook as she reached for her phone. Timothy reached out to her. “Constance, please, please I would never.”

Constance jerked back. “You were my best friend. Why would you do this to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” They all turned to me. “Clearly he’s preying on you. The old woman believes in spirits and hires a medium. The good great-niece tells her aunt this is a scam. The aunt doesn’t listen the first time, but that sort of talk over time tends to break down beliefs which is pretty bad for the medium so he needs to create a reason for the aunt to keep him around. What does he do? He fakes a haunting so she has a reason to reinforce her belief and—surprise, surprise—he now has job security.”

The room fell quiet. Timothy looked as if someone had shot him. Constance didn’t look much different. Elizabeth’s face settled into a grim line.

“It’s really obvious actually. That, plus the wallet and the cologne on the curtains? It’s like you wanted everyone to know it was you, Tim, and that doesn’t make any sense does it? A lot of stuff actually doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it, when you think about it? Because you said you were looking for other jobs anyway. Does that sound like a man who is going to take the time to break into a house, steal clothes, cut rubber off of windows, make noises in the night, unscrew lightbulbs, and, oh yeah, rig the water to make it look like blood? That’s a lot of work for a man trying to move on.” I stopped pacing. “And you know what else is bothering me really really bad? The cologne was too strong.” I turned to Elizabeth. “You said the draftiness started about three weeks ago, right?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did, so why did that curtain smell like he sprayed cologne directly onto it? It wasn’t faded or subtle or anything. It’s all wrong. In fact, since we’re talking about it, the wallet is all wrong too. Because the wallet wasn’t just on the floor tucked behind a box or under a shoe. No, that wallet was hidden in a stack of boxes in the back of the closet. So, if he, in the heat of stealing some jacket or something, just dropped his wallet, why would it be so well hidden? Why would the cologne be so strong? Why did someone want to frame Timothy?”

“What!?” They all cried out at the same time, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop now.

“Let’s see if I can put this together, based on the questions I started asking myself when I was upstairs. Why does someone want to get rid of the only friend a rich old woman has? Does anyone want to guess? No? Okay, how about this: What happened to Constance’s missing iron pills? Or this one, this is the one that really put it all together for me: How did you know exactly how much Timothy’s cologne cost, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth went white as a sheet. Her hands trembled as she reached for a chair. Constance looked sick with horror.

“It was so specific, I had to look it up while I was sitting in your aunt’s closet and would you believe it, you were right. His cologne is exactly $70.00. Pretty expensive for a little bottle. Most colognes are $40, maybe $50, but you said 70. What are the odds?” 

I crouched down so I could stare Elizabeth right in the eye.

“I’m going to tell you what I think, alright? I think you’re in love and you listen to too much true crime. When I got here your aunt mentioned that you’ve never had a serious partner at, what, how old are you? 41? 42? I bet you’ve spent a lot of nights thinking about that, huh? Why doesn’t anyone want me? What’s wrong with me? Feeling unattractive can hit a person pretty hard, but that all changed a few months ago when you met whoever you’ve been calling and texting all the time.”

Elizabeth’s eyes welled with tears as she balled her fists.

“So, you’re in love. Congratulations, by the way. Love’s an amazing thing, especially when you thought you would never find it. Is that why it came to this? Did he want money or something and you didn’t think you’d be able to find anyone else, so you had to figure out how you could get a lotta money real quick? Cause that’s what it’s all about, right? The money. The house. The fact that you’re here taking care of your aunt instead of one of her kids leads me to think that you probably don’t have any children, do you Ms. Constance?”

Constance numbly shook her head.

“Right. So, you will get the money someday, Elizabeth, but someday isn’t now, so you need to speed up the process. You’re gonna have to kill her. But wait! She has a loyal friend in Timothy. Timothy would notice if her death seemed suspicious, so you need to get rid of him first, but how do you do that? You get her to send him away. You frame him for the hauntings. I’ll give you this, you had patience and flair. You started with stealing things from your aunt’s closet. It was probably the easiest to pull off, and the easiest to reverse if you ever changed your mind. I’m sure you sold some of the jewelry which is how you got that new tennis bracelet. You saw me noticing it and tried to tell me that it was an old gift, but you clearly don’t take care of your clothes and the bracelet is way too nice for me to believe that you kept that in good condition, but not your pearls.”

Elizabeth’s hand grabbed her necklace.

“And then you move on to the next step, you take off the rubber on the windows, and create a draft. You unscrew the light bulbs. You make noises in the dark and when she comes to you, scared, asking if you heard anything you lie and say no. And the water? The water was a nice touch. Here's a science lesson for us all: Water turns red when there are traces of iron in it. Guess who’s missing quite a few iron pills? Constance, you weren’t taking double doses. I bet Elizabeth here took a handful to test the amount needed to get the tap water the right color, and then she shoved them up the faucet so that when the water dissolved the pills it came out red. But she can’t be the one to uncover everything, because you two clearly don’t get along. She needs a neutral third party who can’t be accused of bias. She needs a detective to unravel the plot and find out that Timothy was the real culprit. She needs a detective to find the wallet and smell Timothy’s cologne which she probably bought and sprayed on the curtain earlier today. And who does she choose to manipulate and make a distant accessory to murder? Her favorite podcast detective.”

The room was so heavy and still, it felt like a weighted blanket had smothered out every good feeling. I sat down. I hadn’t realized I was breathing so heavily. Elizabeth was trying to avoid her aunt’s prying eyes. Timothy looked at me with disbelief, as if I was the ghost. And, if I’m being honest, I sort of felt like one.

“So,” I said quietly “how’d I do?"