Rosecliff Manor Haunting (10 page)

Lia McReedy was beginning to think there was a lot more to Addison Lockhart than the doe-eyed, sweet-faced girl she made herself out of be. Wherever Addison went, death seemed to follow like a bad habit. Over the past five minutes she’d eavesdropped on Addison’s conversation with Officer Waters and Jackson. Listened to the same regurgitated story Luke and Marjorie told. It was all a bit too coincidental for her liking. The only one who
wasn’t
talking was the tight-lipped old man sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the floor. Too inconsolable to speak, no one had managed to get a word out of him.

Helen’s body was lined out perfectly straight on the bed when Lia had walked in. A little too perfect. And her head was covered with a sheet. Maybe out of respect, maybe out of guilt. It was too early to tell. Lia aimed a pen at Albert, the crime scene photographer. “You get everything you need to in here? I’m ready to take a look at the body.”  

He snapped another picture. “Just a few more.” 

Officer Jackson entered the room, a man she also referred to as “Officer Pain in the Ass” on occasion, partially because he was her ex-boyfriend and partially because the shoe fit. He cleared his throat. She ignored him, using the edge of her pen to lift the edge of the sheet away from Helen’s head.  

Officer Jackson cozied up behind her, leaning so far forward the steam from his breath made the hair on her neck bristle.  

She arched her body to the side.

He laughed.

“Still jumpy after all this time,” he grunted.  

“You don’t have to get so close.”

“You used to like it.”

“TJ, I’m working here. Back off me.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Just trying to be nice is all. Sheesh. What you thinkin’? She been dead long?” 

“Not long. Couple hours maybe. Her muscles are starting to stiffen. The area around her eyelids has changed, but her neck still looks normal.”

“Fits with the timeline Marjorie Grayson gave us.”

“I bet it does,” she said.  

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s never nothing with you.”

“Right now it is.”

“Am I the only one who finds it strange that the Lockhart girl has been in the center of more than one death over the last year?”   

“She was Helen Bouvier’s neighbor, TJ. It wasn’t her fault a dead woman was found in her house when she inherited it.”

“Yeah, well,” he thumbed toward the door, “the mute out there at the table could have dialed 9-1-1 when he found her. He didn’t. Instead I’m to believe he drove to the neighbor’s house where Marjorie Grayson just happened to be visiting, the same woman involved in her own husband’s death several decades ago.”

“Allegedly,” Lia said. “She was never charged.”

“Still. You know what I mean.”  

“If you’re looking for answers, maybe you should get out there and push the old dude to talk.”

“Tryin’ to get rid of me, McReedy?”

McReedy. She’d always been Lia until the day she ended their relationship. Now he only referred to her by her last name, his manipulative way of making her feel like she was nothing to him anymore. Good. It was about time he moved on.  

“Not trying to get rid of you,” she lied. “Just
trying
to do my job.”

Instead of exiting the room, he leaned out the bedroom door, pointed, and said, “You. Come here.”

Milton skulked into the bedroom, his legs unsteady, eyes glossed over in a haze.

“I’m gonna need you to tell me what went on here today,” Officer Jackson said. 

“Marjorie told you,” Milton muttered.

“I don’t want Marjorie Grayson’s version. I want yours.”

Marjorie entered the room. “What are you doing? Why have you brought Milton back here? Can’t you see he’s under distress?”

Officer Jackson curved his lips into a smile. “All due respect, I’m not talking to you right now. You had your turn.”

Marjorie shoved Officer Jackson aside, looping an arm around Milton. “Fine. If Milton stays, I stay.”  

Lia glanced up, recognizing the look in Officer Jackson’s eyes—the same look he always had when he was about to burst.

Officer Jackson reeled around. “Look at her, Milton. Look at Helen.”

When Milton didn’t do as requested, Officer Jackson prodded further. “Oh, come on now. You can do it. She was your friend, wasn’t she? Aren’t you the one who found her?”

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Milton looked at Marjorie.

Officer Jackson gripped Milton’s jaw in his hand, twisting it to face Helen. “Don’t look at Mrs. Grayson. Look at Helen.
Look at her!
Yesterday this woman was alive, full of life, full of color. Now she’s a corpse, withering and rotting away, and you expect me to believe she just passed away in her sleep?”

In an attempt to keep Marjorie from being arrested for assaulting an officer, Lia said, “Take your hands off him, TJ. He hasn’t done anything.”

His hands remained. Lia called for backup, yelling for Officer Waters. Officer Waters entered the room and issued TJ a warning. This time he listened. 

“If everyone could just calm down,” Marjorie said. “I’d like to at least try to clear the air. You’ve all asked about her death, how she died, how we’re involved. But no one has bothered to ask about Helen. She had cancer. And as you can see, she’s not exactly a spring chicken. So before you make allegations, get your facts straight first.”

Two hours later, Marjorie, Addison, Luke, and Milton reconvened at Grayson Manor after Helen’s body was taken by ambulance to be examined. To Addison, the waiting and the uncertainty of what Lia would find during the autopsy was the hardest.

Addison’s cell phone vibrated inside her pocket. She pulled it out and answered.

“I was surprised I didn’t hear from you today,” Rose said. 

“I meant to call,” Addison replied.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“My neighbor passed away several hours ago, and the day just got away from me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you free now?”

“I am.”

“Good. I spent the day putting together a list of names of everyone I can recall being invited to the Easter party. Then I listed their children. I found only two possibilities, two couples with boys matching the age and description of the person you mentioned in your … whatever you call it. Grab a pen and paper and I’ll give them to you.”

She opened a drawer, fiddled around. Nothing to write on but the flip side of the utility bill. It would have to do. “Ready.”  

“Rick Snider and Dean Robertson.”

There was, of course, a third boy Rose
hadn’t
mentioned yet. Derek. Addison questioned whether Rose could even bring herself to suspect her own son. She must have.

“Any idea how old they were at the time?”

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Can’t be sure exactly. They were both friends of my son. He was fifteen at the time.”

Interesting.  

“Any idea where they’re living now?”

“I made some calls to their families, found out both of them are still living in New York. Rick lives in Providence, and Dean lives in Stillwater. I have addresses. A home address for Rick, and a work address for Dean.”

Addison jotted the addresses down.

“When you’re free, I’d like to speak to you again,” Rose said. “It doesn’t have to be today.”

“I’ll get with you tomorrow after I’ve tracked down Rick and Dean.”

“Any idea what you plan to say?”

“Whatever it takes to get some answers.”

Addison heard a knock at outside her bedroom door.

“Come in,” Addison said.

Marjorie entered, closing the door behind her. “Who were you talking to just now?”

Addison reached inside a laundry basket, pulled out a shirt, folded it, then repeated the movement. “Just someone I’m helping out.”  

Marjorie crossed her arms in front of her, sat down on a chair at Luke’s desk. “Tell me about it.”

“We haven’t seen each other for months, and then you turn up today and take a sudden interest in my life. I guess I don’t understand why it’s so important to you.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation, catch up, see how you’ve been doing.”

While it may have been true, it wasn’t the only reason she’d asked.

“You know already, don’t you?” Addison asked.

“That you’ve taken an interest in the Clark girls? I do. Milton told me.”

“I’m guessing you know about my visit with Helen the other day?”

Marjorie crossed one leg over the other, resting a hand on her knee. “Among other things. When did the girls come to you?”

“How do you know they—”

“It’s as I told you months ago, when your powers heighten, mine diminish. I can feel it. And I’m glad. I’ve seen all I need to see, helped those I needed to help. I’m ready to let it all go. I’ve been waiting a long time now.”   

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it? You were born for this, and you’ve finally embraced it. I’m so proud.”  

“My life is … complicated. Last week it was normal. Perfect. Now it’s a mess. I don’t know how to keep everything balanced.”

“You’re not alone, Addison. You have Luke. He seems plenty balanced to me.”

“He is. He’s perfect. I’m the one who’s a mess.”

“You know he loves you, right? I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.” 

“Sometimes I think he deserves better, someone less complicated.”

Marjorie shook her head. “Don’t talk that way. What you are, who you are, the gifts you think make your life more difficult—those same gifts make you unique. Luke could spend the rest of his life searching for another girl like you. He’d never find her.”

“Why have you decided to stay?”

“When Milton called me, told me about Helen, I started thinking about my own life. You’re the only thing I have left, and I haven’t even taken the time to get to know you. Who knows how long I have left—days, months, years? It’s all ticking away. You’re my legacy, our family’s legacy. I want to be part of your life.”

“Do you plan on staying for a while then?”

Marjorie nodded.

“And you’re not worried about the cops picking apart your past now that you’ve returned?”  

“Not anymore. Recently, I had a dream. I saw my own death, if you can believe it. It doesn’t end with me behind bars. Now … we’ve gotten way off topic. You’ve had another vision. Let’s hear it.”

Addison scooted the laundry aside and sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re right, I have.”

She filled her in on the recent events leading up to the current day.  

When she finished, Marjorie said, “I fear you’re putting yourself in danger with this one.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I did. Feels different now though—now that it’s you.”

“I’m determined to see it through. I have to for Vivian and Grace.”

“In all my years, in all the visions I had, those shrouded in secrecy always got me in the most trouble.”

“Are you telling me I should stop, that I shouldn’t seek justice for those two girls?”

“I’m not
telling
you anything. I’m
asking
you to be cautious. And no matter what you do, you’re better off with Luke at your side.”

Marjorie peeked through sheer curtains draped across Addison’s bedroom window. “What’s that Lia woman doing back here?”

Addison joined her grandmother. “Maybe she wants to talk to me about the Clark girls.”

“Or
maybe
she’s finished her autopsy.” 

“If she found anything incriminating, she wouldn’t be alone, would she?”

It was a valid point, but not one Addison believed. Not entirely. She descended the stairs and opened the front door.

“Hey, Addison,” Lia said. “Can we talk?”

Addison nodded and stepped outside. Marjorie followed.

“I … ahh … need to talk to Addison alone,” Lia said.

Hands on hips, Marjorie replied, “What for?”

“Marjorie, please,” Addison said. “Let me handle this.”

“I think it’s best if I stay,” Marjorie said.

Lia clammed up, crossing her arms in front of her. She wasn’t talking, not with Marjorie around. Marjorie sighed loud enough to indicate her frustration then pivoted and charged back inside the house.  

Once they were alone, Lia said, “Is she always like this?”

“Seems like it. Truth is, I haven’t known her for very long. I wasn’t around her when I was a child.”

“Why not?”

“She and my mother didn’t get along. When my mother passed away last year. Marjorie reentered my life. Anyway, are you here about what we discussed earlier?”

“I’m here about Helen. Why do you ask? Has anything changed?”

“Rose called me. She gave me the names of a couple boys who were there the night of the party. It’s possible they may have been playing in the attic with the girls. I realize no one admitted it before … but who knows? Maybe now someone will.”

“Addison, I … that’s great. I came by because I wanted to tell you I spoke to Helen’s doctor this evening.”  

“Oh?”

“Marjorie was right. She had cancer. He said she refused any kind of treatment. Were you aware of this?”

“She kept her illness from me,” Addison said. “After she died, Marjorie told me.”

“Are you familiar with cyanosis?”

“Cya … what?”

“Cyanosis. It means ‘the blue disease.’”

“Oh … kay.”

“It appears when the tissues near the skin’s surface are low in oxygen. In Helen’s case, in the discoloration I detected in the skin around her nose.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Aren’t you interested?”

“Helen was my neighbor, and I’m sorry she’s gone, but we weren’t close.”  

“When I examined Helen, I noticed petechial hemorrhages in her skin. There was also some bruising inside Helen’s mouth.”

More terms Addison wasn’t familiar with. “I assume you’re telling me this because you’re leading up to something.”

“I don’t believe Helen died in her sleep, or in some accidental way. I believe she was suffocated.”

Addison did her best to keep a straight face. “Okay.”

“Okay? I plan to put this information in my report.”

Again, Addison said, “Okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, whatever your involvement is, I can’t protect you.”

Addison’s legs wobbled, feeling like they were about to collapse beneath her. She clutched the porch railing to keep herself steady. “Even if I did know what was going on, and I’m not saying I do, why would you want to protect me? We don’t even know each other. Not really.”

“You seem like a good person. I believe you are a good person. I also believe you want to do what’s right. But the more I’m around you, the more I notice how many situations you get yourself into. I may be naïve sometimes, but I’m not stupid. They can’t
all
be a coincidence.”

“I like you, Lia. And I appreciate you taking the time to stop by. I don’t have a lot of friends here. I haven’t made any since I moved, actually. You’re a good person too. I knew it the first time we met. If I considered anyone a friend, it would be you.”

Lia shielded her eyes with a hand. “So that’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Addison nodded.

“This is your last chance. Whomever you’re protecting, it isn’t worth it. If the cops can prove Helen was suffocated, and it turns out you omitted information,
you
could be charged as an accessory,
Luke
could be charged as an accessory.”

Without the pillow, which in this case was the proof they needed, what evidence did they have to form a case? None. Or was she wrong, fooling herself into believing everything would be all right? The more it festered, the more unsure she became.

Lia took her hand. “Your eyes are watering, Addison. Please, tell me.”

“I … I just really don’t know if …”

The front door opened and closed.

Busted.

Addison turned, expecting to find Marjorie and instead came face to face with Milton.

His voice calm, he said, “It was me. I did it. I killed her.”  

Eyes wide, Addison looked at Milton then Lia. “He’s still in shock. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“No, Addison, it’s okay.” He looked at Lia. “Addison, Luke, Marjorie … they had no part in what happened to my Helen. If you want, I’ll make a confession. Just, leave them out of it.”

“Milton, don’t,” Addison said. “Stop.”

“It’s okay,” Lia said. “I’m not the police.”

“Then make a call,” Milton said. “Get them down here. I’ll tell them everything.”

Lia took out her phone, dialed.

“Addison, I’m sorry,” Milton said. “I have to. I can’t live a lie. I just can’t.”

A frantic Marjorie bounded onto the porch, her steely gaze directed at Addison. “What have you done?”