The Haunting of Hyde Park Manor (Mystery #1)

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 light switch 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.

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