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"The Unwilling Heir"


Chapter 1
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 1

By Begin Again

Ryan sighed, looking up at the ominous clouds in the distance. "You know, a person as sweet as me could melt if those clouds decide to open up. Any of you clowns bring an umbrella?"

A tall, distinguished-looking gentleman in the group rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, Ryan. You're not made of sugar. And no, none of us brought an umbrella. So, let's get this over with."

'You know what I think?" Benny wore a plaid flannel over a white T-shirt and jeans, unlike the others who wore suits.

"No one cares what you think," Ryan snarled. "You probably think we should just pop her and put her in the casket, too."

Benny sneered, "You're nuts! I wouldn't put that bag of bones in the same box as Noah. He was my friend, remember?"

James stood still, his eyes transfixed on the towering iron gates marking the entrance to Willow Creek Cemetery. As he waited, a solemn procession of long, black limousines slowly emerged from behind the gates and began to wind their way up the hill toward the burial grounds. The quiet hum of the engines echoed through the stillness of the air, adding to the eerie ambiance of the scene.

"I'm thinking we should walk right up to the widow, real official-like, and express our condolences for her loss —"

"Yeah, and then drop it on her." Benny chuckled. "Madeline Wakefield, we're here to investigate the death of your late husband. We suspect foul play."

Judge Parker stepped forward, trying to sound authoritative. "Listen, we've already decided, so just shut your mouths, and let's get this over with."

"Always have to have the last word, don't you?" Benny sniffed and turned away.

"The Judge is right. We stick to the plan." James sighed. "The procession is coming up the hill."

"I'm telling you, James, this is a bad idea." Ryan paced back and forth near the gravesite as he watched the line of cars.

"It's the only way," Judge Parker's eyes narrowed as the grieving widow exited the car. "Unless one of you has a better idea. Save your breath because I already know you don't."

James shook his head. "We've been through this, guys. The girl is the key to Noah's death. Show a little respect, will you?"

Benny's eyes had a strange gleam as he smiled, a sly smirk on his face. "I could have easily taken her out." He pointed his finger at the widow and mimicked the sound of a gun, holding up his finger.

Ryan's left eyebrow arched in disbelief. "Benny, it's your crazy ideas that got you in this mess," he said, shaking his head.

"I'm not the only one in this mess, Detective." Benny sneered at Ryan, his voice laced with sarcasm. "You're no better than me. Weren't you the one sitting in your car outside the mansion with blood all over your clothes and hands?" Turning to the Judge, he added, "And I got the scoop on you too."

"Shut up, both of you. Your arguing could wake the dead," the Judge interjected, his voice stern.

Benny's eyes widened at the Judge's remark. "God forbid! I might have put some of these people six feet under." He looked upward and whispered, "Forgive me, Father," while signing the cross. He shrugged. "But trust me, most of them deserved it," he assured the Lord.

*****

Six somber-looking men dressed in dark suits and ties were carefully carrying a silver casket up the steep and winding hill toward the burial site of Noah Wakefield. The recently widowed woman, dressed in a long black dress, wore a wide-brimmed black hat and a veil that obscured her face from curious onlookers. She dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes with a white lace handkerchief and a faint smile on her lips as if relishing the attention she was about to receive at her deceased husband's graveside.

James let out a deep and audible sigh, his eyes scanning the grounds before he spoke in a low and urgent tone. "They're almost here. You three need to leave right now before they see you."

"See us?" The three men disappeared, leaving James to greet the widow.

*****

The six men carefully positioned the casket on the stand. At the same time, the soft melody of "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" played in the background, filling the chapel tent with a mournful atmosphere. James greeted the widow as Madeline entered the tent and led her toward a seat. "Was this song your choice or Noah's?"

"It was mine. It reminds me how Noah would do anything for me." Madeline smiled.

James chuckled. "You were down and out when he rescued you from the streets."

"We were in love." People were milling around, and Madeline didn't like the conversation. She lowered her voice and spoke, "I'm surprised to see you here, James, since you rarely leave the carriage house." She smiled, but it wasn't a warm one. "Lucky for you, Noah left the run-down place to you. I would have torn it down."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm here for Noah and no other reason, Madeline. We were friends."

She snarled, "Friends! Almost a couple, I'd say. My husband spent more time in the carriage house garden with you than with me."

"He found peace there. He wasn't one to enjoy all the parties and your wild friends." James scanned the mourners. "Not too many of them made it to the services, I see."

"They'll be at the house, I am sure." Madeline smiled. "It's a catered affair."

"The last big blowout before you are forced to move." James couldn't hide his satisfaction.

"Don't start celebrating because I'm not going anywhere. That woman will not force me out of my home."

"That woman has a name!" He fought to control the anger building inside him. "Sandra Monroe isn't doing anything, Madeline. It was Noah's decision."

"The man was sick. His mind was confused." Madeline stared at the casket. "He — he loved me. He wanted me to have the best of everything." She sneered, "When we were married, he promised me the mansion. And it's mine, now."

"You and I know your marriage was a sham. He believed your lies, and his soft heart rescued you from the life you were living. Regretfully, he learned the truth." James leaned toward her. "Admit it! You were a prostitute working out of a brothel, and Noah was your sucker."

Madeline's eyes flared with fury as she slapped James's face. "Liar! How dare you defame me?" She moved toward Noah's casket and sobbed. "Noah, darling, do you see his cruelty now?"
 
James walked away, leaving her so-called friends to comfort her.

*****

Sandra felt uncomfortable attending Noah Wakefield's funeral, a request from a stranger. She had parked her car further away from the procession, giving herself time to observe the gathering from a distance. Standing outside her car, she fought the urge to climb back inside and drive away. Sandra asked herself the same questions she'd been asking since receiving the letter. "Who are you? And why am I here?"

She'd chosen a black pantsuit and a string of pearls, a gift from her fiance, Michael. As she stood in the cemetery, surrounded by the headstones, memories of her own flooded her thoughts, and she couldn't help but shiver. It felt like it had been just yesterday, not three years ago. She'd understood Michael's illness was terminal. They'd even had long conversations about it. However, when the time finally came, she realized she was unprepared to face the reality of it all. She wondered if she'd ever be able to love again.

The music drifted across the rows of gravestones, reaching Sandra's ears. When she recognized the song, Sandra smiled, asking, "Are you sending me a sign, Michael?" She remembered he had requested the same song to be played at his funeral, reassuring her of his eternal presence.

She adjusted her jacket, brushing away a few cookie crumbs. Another thing she'd shared with Michael. She was ready. "Well, Sandra, it's now or never."

Her confidence faded as she weaved through the rows of headstones. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she remembered what had brought her to a stranger's funeral — the letter!

Yesterday, she received a letter from a judge saying she'd inherited a mansion in Willow Creek, a place she'd never heard of before, from someone she didn't know. There was only one condition: she was to attend Noah Wakefield's funeral. She'd tossed the letter in the trash, thinking it was a hoax. Still, her curiosity got the best of her after reading Noah's obituary.

She decided to make an appearance and then leave. Nobody would even know she was there if she remained in the back.

As she approached the gathering at the gravesite, Sandra noticed Madeline, the widow, standing at the head of the casket. Anguish was written on her face, and streaks of mascara dotted her face. She clutched a tissue in her trembling hand, holding back the tears. Sandra's heart went out to her. She knew all too well the pain of losing a loved one.

Sandra stepped forward, extending her hand to offer her condolences. "Mrs. Wakefield —"

Madeline turned her head towards the voice, her swollen eyes filled with anger and pain. Her face twisted into a scowl as she recognized Sandra. The private investigator she'd hired had provided a picture that left no doubt who the woman standing there was.

"YOU!" she screamed, pointing at Sandra, her voice trembling with emotion. "How dare you come here?" she shrieked, her voice thick with hatred. The venom in Madeline's voice shocked Sandra. She had no idea what she had done to deserve such hostility.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What have I done?" Sandra's voice was barely above a whisper.

Madeline curled her lip in disgust as she glared at Sandra. "You know exactly what you've done. You're the one Noah chose to inherit the Willow Creek mansion, right? First my husband, then my home."

Sandra's eyes widened, and she stammered, "I — I didn't know."

Sandra reached out to touch the distraught woman's arm but was met with fury. Madeline snarled, "Don't touch me! Wasn't stealing my husband enough? Now you want to humiliate me in front of our friends."

Sobbing hysterically, Madeline delivered the lines she'd practiced repeatedly in her mirror. "This woman was Noah's mistress!"

Gasps and murmuring flowed throughout the crowd, adding fuel to the fire. Madeline smiled inwardly, but her voice said something different.

"She has inherited everything, leaving me penniless." Madeline turned toward the casket, draping herself over it, moaning in despair, "Why Noah? Why?" before collapsing to the ground. Her friends rushed to lift her up.

Sandra's confusion only deepened. "No, none of that is true. I received a letter and was asked to attend the funeral. Other than that, I don't know anything else. I'm not his mistress."

"Liar! Leave! You're not welcome here or at the mansion. It's mine! I won't let you take it."

*****

Fighting back her tears, a stunned Sandra hurried away from the gathering, desperate to put it all behind her.

"Why did I come here? Why? Who would play such a hoax on me?" Sandra continued to berate herself until she heard someone calling her name. She stopped, partially because she was out of breath and partially to see who was calling her name.

"Sandra." A distinguished-looking man followed close behind her. "Sandra, please wait."

"Please, I'm sorry I upset the widow. I had no idea." Sandra swatted a tear off of her cheek.

His voice was pleasant, and his smile warm. "I know you didn't, and I'm sorry."

"I had no right to come to a funeral and upset anyone. I don't know why I'm here."

"I do!" He extended his hand toward Sandra. "May I introduce myself?" He didn't wait for an answer but continued, "I'm James Matthews. I live in the carriage house in the mansion gardens."

His kindness shattered the shield she'd put between herself and the people staring at her. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she stammered, "She's mistaken. I've never met her husband, and I have no idea why he left the mansion to me."

James smiled, reassuring her. "I know. Perhaps we should walk."

Sandra glanced down the hill at the group hovering around Madeline Wakefield. "But the widow —shouldn't I explain."

"I assure you, she will be fine. She's one for the dramatics, possibly a characteristic from earlier days." James smiled, taking her arm in his. "Some friends of mine wish to meet you."

"Meet me?" Sandra's eyebrows furrowed. "But why?"

"I'll let them explain." James slipped his arm around hers and walked across the cemetery, pointing out historic headstones. The tension eased from Sandra as he chatted about the gardens, naming each flower or butterfly.

Soon, they entered a secluded area in the cemetery. The garden was an oasis of tranquility, with blossoming Roses of Sharon and various shades of purple lilacs filling the air with a sweet fragrance. James pointed across the garden, "There they are."

Three men were lounging on cement benches. As James and Sandra approached, they stood and waved, excited to meet Sandra Monroe, the woman who inherited the mansion.

The Judge warned his friends, "The two of you need to behave. Don't scare her away unless —Well, you know the other alternative."

"No jokes about popping someone, Benny." Ryan jabbed his elbow into his friend's side.

"Me? You're the one with all the dead bodies." Benny chuckled. "Or at least ones anyone talks about."

The Judge glared at them. "Enough!"

Each assessed the woman who held their futures in her hands as they waited to be introduced.

Author Notes Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - currently unemployed
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
Sandra Monroe - small time investigative reporter


Chapter 2
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 2

By Begin Again

ENDING OF CHAPTER 1

"Meet me?" Sandra's eyebrows furrowed. "But why?"

"I'll let them explain." James slipped his arm around hers and walked across the cemetery, pointing out historic headstones. The tension eased from Sandra as he chatted about the gardens, naming each flower or butterfly.

Soon, they entered a secluded area in the cemetery. The garden was an oasis of tranquility, with blossoming Roses of Sharon and various shades of purple lilacs filling the air with a sweet fragrance. James pointed across the garden, "There they are."

Three men were lounging on cement benches. As James and Sandra approached, they stood and waved, excited to meet Sandra Monroe, the woman who inherited the mansion.

The Judge warned his friends, "The two of you need to behave. Don't scare her away unless —. Well, you know the other alternative."

"No jokes about popping someone, Benny." Ryan jabbed his elbow into his friend's side.

"Me? You're the one with all the dead bodies." Benny chuckled. "Or at least ones anyone talks about."

The Judge glared at them. "Enough!"

Each assessed the woman who held their futures in her hands as they waited to be introduced.
 
*****
 
CHAPTER 2

"Hey guys, look at the dame hanging on James's arm. No offense, ma'am, but I was really hoping for donuts." Ryan chuckled. "Honestly, we were waiting impatiently for you, but the donuts would have been a bonus."

"Don't listen to him; his fat rolls have more flab than a basset hound." Benny chortled, "My apologies to all offended basset hounds."

"Excuse the two idiots. They both think they're runners-up in a comedy contest. Judge William Parker at your service, ma'am." He extended his hand and then turned to his fellow cohorts. "May I introduce you to Detective Ryan Hamilton with his donut obsession, Benny Gonzales, the unemployed — hmmm —it might be best to save his profession for another day, and of course, you have already met James, the voice of reason among this motley crew."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Hey, you forgot to mention my impeccable detective skills. I may love donuts, but I could still crack a case like nobody's business."

Benny grinned at Judge Parker. "And I may be jobless, but hey, laughter is the best medicine, right? Plus, I hear unemployment is great for finding hidden talents." Benny tipped his fedora and winked at Sandra. "I'm just having a little fun while I restructure my career."

The judge laughed. "Yeah, getting your ass out of trouble just like the rest of us."

Sandra tried hiding her amusement in the odd trio while mentally sorting out the situation.

I wonder how they knew Noah. I don't remember seeing them at the gravesite, but then Madeline made such a scene that I doubt I'd remember seeing anyone. And why have they chosen to meet me here in the cemetery? Is it a matter of convenience or something else?

She smiled and greeted the men, "It's nice to meet you, gentlemen, but I can't imagine why you'd want to meet me."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately, doll face? Va-va-voom." Benny snorted. "You're one of those babes you can meet in the daylight and still get excited."

"Benny, that's enough." Judge Parker reprimanded his sidekick before addressing Sandra. "My apologies for my friend. He tends to forget his manners and his brains."

James squeezed Sandra's arm. "They're good guys, regardless of their lack of people skills."

"Hey, I don't lack —" Benny never completed his sentence.

An ear-piercing scream burst through the rustling lilac branches, drawing everyone's attention toward the blooming hedge.

"My Lord, what was that?" Sandra's eyes widened as her look shifted from the group to the bushes. "A hurt animal?"

James laughed. "My guess is it's no animal. Give her a second, and you will see."

A short, stout woman scrambled into the clearing, pulling twigs from her hair and brushing lilac petals from her clothes. She stopped and adjusted the bonnet covering her gray hair. With a quick nod in James and Sandra's direction, she stomped across the grass toward the other three. "Wait till I get my bloody hands on you ninnies."

Ryan and Benny glanced at each other and then burst into laughter, enraging the woman as she waved her arm in the air. "I'll be beatin' you with my broom, for sure."

Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at the three as she stopped in front of them. Her finger poked against their chests, one by one. "So, you thought you'd leave me behind, did you?" With her hands on her hips and her foot tapping the ground, she continued to berate the men. "There'll be no pulling the wool over Lorrie's eyes."

Sandra couldn't help but snicker at the sight of the pleasantly plump woman, who reminded her of a grandmother scolding the children.

James chuckled. "Lorraine, please stop fussing and come meet the new owner of the mansion, Sandra Monroe."

Lorrie made a face at the men, then dusted off her clothes and curtsied. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I'm Lorraine. The likes of these sports prefer to call me Lorrie. Whichever you prefer is fine with me." As she smiled, her eyes twinkled, and her voice filled with pride. "I have been Mr. Wakefield's housekeeper for the last twenty-odd years. He was a fine man, not like that woman."

She looked at the men and then turned back to Sandra, lowering her voice, "Mr. Wakefield, may he rest in peace, returned from out west—" Lorraine's chest puffed as she snorted, "With that hussy and her fancy ways, strutting around like she was high society."

"Lorrie!" James snapped but quickly let his eyes fill with amusement.

"Don't be raising your voice to me, James. You know I am speaking the truth. She insisted I curtsy when I entered the room, and I had to always say yes, ma'am, no, ma'am."

"Lorraine, you're giving Ms. Monroe the wrong impression. Has everyone lost their manners," James scolded.

Lorraine's feisty spirit refused to be reprimanded, and she continued, "Now, James, you and I both know she married Noah for his money, and she thought his untimely death would make her rich. I'd have loved to have seen her face when she learned that Ms. Monroe had inherited the whole shebang."

Lorraine leaned in closer and whispered, "It's a beautiful home, but it holds some dark secrets. Some say it's cursed."

"Lorraine, stop with your gossip! You'll be scaring the young woman away." He smiled at Sandra. "Despite their antics, my colleagues and I are happy you've chosen to come to Willow Creek."

"Yes, I came for the funeral, but I've not decided about the rest."

Lorrie's eyes widened. "Not decided. Oh, dear me, you must stay. I hope we didn't frighten you away."

"No, not at all. You're charming people, but I'm unsettled about an inheritance from someone I didn't know. Besides, I have a job in the city. I'm a crime reporter — a fledging one, but I know I'd be a good one if given the chance."

Lorraine danced and twirled around in a circle, pointing at the three men. "Perfect! A crime reporter, you say. Investigating things, right?"

"Yes, but my boss always tells me to leave the big stories to the guys. He frowns and reminds me that curiosity killed the cat. He tosses me a bone once in a while, but nothing big yet."

The detective moved closer. "Is a murder big enough?"

A loud gasp escaped Sandra's mouth, and she quickly turned to James. "A murder? Was it Mr. Wakefield?"

The judge shot an evil look in Ryan's direction. "As usual, our in-house detective has gotten ahead of himself."

Ryan scowled. "I haven't! Fact is, we have reason to believe Mr. Wakefield was murdered."

"You do! Are you on the investigation team, Ryan?" The trap was snapped, and Sandra could feel her heart pumping.

"Me? Umm — not exactly. But —"

"Listen, we hadn't meant to spring all this on you, but Ryan is always jumping the gun," James scowled.

Ignoring the bickering, Sandra plunged forward with her own questions. "Somebody is investigating, right? If not the local detective, then who? I'd love to sink my teeth into a story."

Lorrie sighed. "These dolts be beating around the bush all day, but I'll clear the air. The widow snuffed any investigation. She says Noah died from natural causes, but —"

"What did the coroner say? Who found the body and where? Did you demand an investigation if you thought she was wrong?" A whirlwind was swirling inside Sandra's head as she tried to soak everything in.
 
A murder?

James sighed. "We — well — I approached Madeline and suggested we should call the coroner, but she demanded I leave her to attend to her husband." He scuffed his shoe across the grass. "Madeline has friends, powerful ones, who believed her story."

Refusing to let go of a possible story, Sandra questioned everyone. "But someone — the coroner, the sheriff, a doctor, someone looked into it, right?"

"I'm afraid I'm the only one. I questioned Madeline. At first, she brushed me off, but when I continued, she began to place the blame on Theo. He's an elderly man who tends to the front lawn and the flowers. According to Madeline, Theo had a heated argument with Noah that day. She said once the sheriff discovered Theo was an ex-con, there would be no question, and he'd be arrested."

"And what did Theo say?"

Everyone exchanged looks, but no one spoke. Finally, the judge cleared his throat and said, "Theo disappeared."

"Disappeared? But where and why?" The story was building, layer by layer, but Sandra still hadn't a clue. She needed a lead. "If there's no case, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Not pointing any fingers, but how would you feel if Mrs. Wakefield accused you of murdering her husband to get your hands on the mansion?"

"Me? I didn't know the man. Why would she do that?"

James raised an eyebrow. "She's already accused you of being his mistress. Why'd she do that? Maybe her friends would back her up. They're thick as thieves. I wouldn't put it past a few of them to conjure up some stories, hoping to reap some benefits."

Sandra's voice raised a notch. "Ryan, you're a detective, and you're a judge. Can't either of you do something?"

"We're trying, but you have far more to lose than us. Don't you want to discover the actual killer of the man who left you his entire fortune? Don't you owe him that?"

"Is there an actual killer? Or is this story meant to scare the widow away? It's obvious there's no love lost between any of you and her." The group fell silent.

"I don't know what to think. I'm uncertain if I should accept the inheritance," Sandra said, her voice laced with doubt. "It may be better to refuse and let the widow have everything."

A unanimous shout of protest erupted from the group, their voices echoing in the wind. "NOOOO!"

Their reaction stunned Sandra, but she remained uncertain. "I'll take some time to think about it and let you know my decision. I need to go back home and talk to my boss. If he agrees to give me some time off, I'll come back after the weekend. But it will only be a visit."

Lorraine chimed, "In four days?"

Sandra nodded, her mind racing with the possibilities. "Yes, in four days. But I can't promise I'll stay. It's not every day someone leaves me a mansion, so I should at least see it before deciding."

Lorraine curtseyed and smiled warmly, her eyes shining with excitement. "I'll make sure everything is sparkling for you when you return, ma'am. And we'll have a pot roast with potatoes and veggies. And homemade apple pie."

"With ice cream?" Ryan asked.

Lorraine glanced at Ryan but answered, "Yes, with ice cream. Would that suit you, Ms. Monroe?"

Sandra couldn't resist Lorraine's endearing smile, and she smiled, too. "Call me Sandra, and please, don't curtsey, Lorraine."

"Thank you, ma'am; I mean Sandra. You can call me Lorrie if you wish."

"Thank you, Lorrie," Sandra said, trying to contain her desire to hug the sweet woman standing before her. "Now, I better go. It's a long drive back to the city. It's been nice meeting all of you."

Before she could leave, James asked, "You will return, right?"

Sandra nodded. "Yes, but I won't promise anything. You haven't said much about the murder. Do you think Theo is innocent?" Her mind raced with questions.

"I do. There's so much more to tell you, but it will wait," James replied solemnly.

Sandra's heart raced as Lorraine's words rolled around in her mind.

Hmm...something's going on, but what? First, the letter, then Noah's funeral, and the widow screaming at me. Can't imagine being someone's mistress, especially an old man. What am I missing? I don't know who to believe, but Lorraine's eyes were convincing. Was it all an act? And if so, What for?

Sandra knew there was more to this story. She could feel it in her bones.

"I just hope she's wrong about the mansion being haunted," she whispered, trying to shake off the eerie feeling that had settled over her.

"Don't be silly! There's no such thing as ghosts," she reassured herself, but the thought lingered.

As she turned to wave goodbye, Sandra's eyes widened in surprise when she saw everyone had disappeared. She scanned the cemetery, but the only sounds in the air were the rustling of leaves in the wind and two squirrels dashing across the grass.

"That's strange. Where did they go?"

Suddenly, she felt herself falling, and then she didn't.

"Gotcha."
 
Was that a voice?

Sandra's eyes widened as she looked around again. Her voice cracked. "Is someone there?"

When no one answered, she laughed. "It's a cemetery, Sandra. Dead people don't talk."

She saw the tipped-over headstone covered in moss and felt foolish. Boo!

She shook her head, muttering, "It's time to go home."

Her steps quickened as she hurried to her car, her heart still pounding. Inside the car, she stared out the window toward the garden, her head filled with unanswered questions.

As she drove through the iron gates, she mumbled, "There's no such thing as ghosts!"

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - currently unemployed
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow


Chapter 3
The Unwilling Heir - 3

By Begin Again

END OF CHAPTER 2

"Don't be silly! There's no such thing as ghosts," she reassured herself, but the thought lingered.

As she turned to wave goodbye, Sandra's eyes widened in surprise when she saw everyone had disappeared. She scanned the cemetery, but the only sounds were the rustling of leaves in the wind and two squirrels dashing across the grass.

"That's strange. Where did they go?"

Suddenly, she felt herself falling, and then she didn't.

"Gotcha."

Was that a voice?

Sandra's eyes widened as she looked around again. Her voice cracked. "Is someone there?"

When no one answered, she laughed. "It's a cemetery, Sandra. Dead people don't talk."

She saw the tipped-over headstone covered in moss and felt foolish. Boo!

She shook her head, muttering, "It's time to go home."

Her steps quickened as she hurried to her car, her heart still pounding. Inside the car, she stared out the window toward the garden, her head filled with unanswered questions.

As she drove through the iron gates, she mumbled, "There's no such thing as ghosts!"
*****

CHAPTER 3

"Annie, were you able to find a telephone number for Judge Parker? I think his first name was William." Sandra called her assistant in the outer office.

"I tried but couldn't find a listing. Are you sure about his name?"

"I met the guy at a funeral." Sandra shrugged. "I'm usually good at remembering names, but —"

"A funeral? I can't get you to date any of the guys I know, and now you hook up with a guy at a funeral. Tell me you're kidding," Annie exclaimed.

"Hookup? Oh, heavens, no, Annie." Sandra laughed at her assistant. "You won't believe it, but I inherited a mansion, a Victorian house in Willow Creek, from a stranger."

"A stranger left you a house?" Annie was skeptical. "That's so strange. Do you think it's legit?"

"I don't know what to think. There's a mysterious story behind it," Sandra replied, her tone thoughtful.

"So, the bloodhound is on the hunt, right?" Annie chuckled.

"For a story, maybe. Not a man." Sandra sighed. "I'm not sure if I should accept it. What would I do with a house in the countryside?"

"Live in it! Have you seen it? What's it like?"

"I've not seen it. I was supposed to go back today for a tour, and I even got the okay from Les."

"Then what's the holdup?" Annie giggled. "I'd be packed and out of here. You deserve some time off."

"I don't know. Something doesn't feel right. So, I've decided to talk to Judge Parker again." Sandra rummaged through a stack of papers. "Aha! This is the envelope the letter came in. There is no phone number, of course, but the office is at 1422 Marion. Why does that sound familiar?"

"Because the new Italian restaurant that we've been talking about is at 1425 Marion. It's only five blocks from here."

Smiling, Sandra turned to Annie and made her an offer she couldn't refuse. "If you cover my calls, I'll bring you back cannoli." She winked.

"Cannoli! "Annie squealed. "Go, get out of here."

And with that, Sandra stepped out into the sunshine, determined to uncover the secret of Willow Creek.

*****

Standing inside 1422 Marion, Sandra was having second thoughts.

What am I doing? Maybe this has all been a hoax. Everything is so strange. The widow! And those guys in the garden. At least James seemed normal and, of course, sweet Lorrie.

Sandra stared at the elevator as the doors slowly opened.

Do I go or not?

A bell rang, and the doors began to close. Sandra placed her hands in the opening, stopping them. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, leaning against the wall. She was still uncertain what she would say to the Judge or if he would share anything with her.

The elevator creaked and groaned as it slowly ascended to the third floor. Finally, the doors opened, and she entered a dimly lit hallway on the third floor. The hallway was long and narrow, and the walls were painted dull beige. Unlike the busy corridors in her building, it was quiet. An arrow on the wall indicated that Suite 303 was located down the hall to her left.

Sandra hurried past each office, scanning the numbers on the doors as she went. As she passed Suite 301, she again wondered what she would say to the judge and if it would convince her to take the mansion.

"Come on, Judge. Where are you?" she muttered quietly under her breath.

Passing a few unmarked doors, she finally arrived outside Suite 303. She was relieved to see William Parker — Judge written on the door. But her excitement was short-lived when she saw the 'For Rent' sign hanging near the door. A wave of disbelief washed over her.

Surprised, Sandra spoke out loud. "This can't be!"

A young woman with a janitorial cart appeared behind her as if on cue. "Were you interested in looking at the office?" she asked in a friendly tone. "I've got the keys if you want to take a look. It needs some cleaning, but it's got a nice view. The Judge always loved the city skyline, especially at night."

"The Judge. You know him?"

The young woman looked confused. "Know Judge Parker? I did."

"Great! Maybe you can tell me where he moved his offices to." Sandra held her breath, waiting for an answer. "It would save me some time."

"You want to know where Judge Parker's offices are?"

"Yes, I received a letter from him a few days ago with this address. I need to reach him."

"I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken. Judge Parker is dead."

Sandra swallowed. "Dead! No, he can't be! I met him and his friends at Noah Wakefield's funeral in Willow Creek just a few days ago."

The woman smiled. "Sure sounds like the Judge. He loved to visit Mr. Wakefield. But it just couldn't have been him."

"You're sure he died?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. He was working late, and someone came in and shot him through the heart. I went in to clean his office and found him. There was blood everywhere. Sure enough, he was dead, a hole in the middle of his chest. You can bet I got out of there, fast!"

"When was that?"

"Let's see. The Judge died in the spring of last year, so I guess it's been almost a year."

"A year?" A chill ran down Sandra's spine. "Do you mind if I look around?"

"You go ahead. I prefer not to go in there if you don't mind. I'll be cleaning the offices across the hall so I can lock up after you leave."

"Thank you. I won't be long." Sandra peered through the door. Some of the office furniture was covered with sheets and a layer of dust and cobwebs. Unconsciously, she put on her imaginary crime reporter hat and entered the office.

So, Judge Parker, someone put a bullet hole through your chest, and you're dead. Why? Were they looking for something? And who's the man impersonating you?

She walked around the office, noting the scattered papers on the desk and the empty bookshelves lining the walls.

A faded photo caught her eye as she rifled through the papers on the desk. A younger version of the man she had met at Noah Wakefield's funeral stared at her. It was a picture of the Judge with his family — his wife, two daughters, and a golden retriever sitting at their feet.

You look happy. So, what's your story? Someone wanted you dead, but why?

Lost in thought, Sandra jumped in surprise when she heard a creaking sound from the bookshelves. A panel was ajar. Sandra touched it, and it opened, revealing a secret compartment.

Oh! What do we have here, Judge?

Cautiously, Sandra peered inside. At first, it looked like a stack of old journals and papers.

Sandra pulled them out and glanced at each one.

Nothing interesting here.

Disappointed in her discovery, she restacked them and started to put them back where she'd found them, but —"

What's this?

Deeper inside the compartment, she could see something else. She reached inside. Her fingers gripped a leather-bound book of some kind. She pulled out the book and blew off the dust, revealing the title. She gasped.

The Secret Life of Judge Parker. Now we're getting somewhere.

Intrigued, Sandra opened the book and began to read. The pages were filled with entries detailing the Judge's dealings with the criminal underworld, his involvement in shady business deals, and his corrupt practices within the legal system. Sandra's eyes widened as she realized the man once respected as a pillar of the community was nothing more than a criminal in a judge's robe.

Guess someone felt you were a threat because you knew too much.

As she continued to read, Sandra heard footsteps approaching from the outer office. Panicking, she quickly closed the book and stuffed it into her bag. She turned to see a man standing in the doorway.

"What do you think you're doing?" the man demanded, his voice laced with anger.

Sandra froze, her heart pounding in her throat. "Umm, the cleaning lady —she said it was okay."

"Well, it's not unless I say so."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize," Sandra stammered, her hands shaking slightly as she tried to compose herself.

The man stepped further into the room, the badge on his belt catching the light and gleaming brightly. She felt the intensity of his gaze as he stared at her.

"The space is for rent. I was taking a quick peek. I meant no harm."

"That's no excuse for trespassing in a restricted area," the man snapped, his tone harsh and accusatory. "You're not supposed to be in here without permission."

"The cleaning lady said it was okay," Sandra repeated.

The man's expression softened slightly, and he stepped further into the judge's office, glancing around the room. "Sorry. The Judge was a friend of mine. It still bothers me when I see someone else in here."

Sandra smiled, "I understand. I lost someone a few years ago, and I still haven't fully recovered."

"I think if they'd caught his murderer, I might feel a little better. Maybe someday." He looked around the room, abruptly adding, "Be sure someone locks up. Have a nice evening."

Sandra watched as he left the room, a nagging feeling of unease returning to her stomach. She shivered, knowing she'd stumbled upon something she shouldn't have, which could have serious repercussions if she weren't careful. Her legs were trembling, and she collapsed into the office chair.

Okay, Sandra, admit you were scared. No, not me. Well, just a little, I suppose, but that's because he surprised me. Now, the real question is, why did a man with a badge have a corrupt judge as his friend and a good friend, it seems? And what does the mansion have to do with any of it? Then, of course, the guy in Willow Creek is also impersonating him. Who is he?

Sandra spun the chair around toward the window and looked out at the city skyline, still struggling with what she'd learned today and at the funeral.

Judge William Parker is liked by many, it appears, yet the book says something totally different about you. A double life? I can't help wondering what thoughts went through your head when you sat and looked out this window. Was it crime and justice or just crime?

Sandra took a final look as she left the office. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was now entangled in a dangerous web of deceit and corruption. She knew that if she wanted to uncover the truth behind the Judge's death, she would have to be prepared to face the consequences —no matter how dire they may be.

I've got to go back to the mansion.

*****

As she stepped out into the street, a sharp gust of wind whipped at her hair and clothes, but she barely registered the chill. The sun was gone, and so was her carefree mood. She couldn't stop thinking about the Judge and the strange events of the past few days that had turned her world upside down. She hurried across the street to buy the promised cannoli for Annie while a whirlwind of thoughts swirled inside her head. She could feel her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
 
*****

With the promised purchase in hand, Sandra headed for her office building. Something, a noise, made her stop and turn back toward the Judge's building.

Were those footsteps?

She didn't see anyone, but she quickened her steps until she neared her office. She had inherited a mansion from a stranger, a man she had never met, and his wife had accused her of being his mistress. And now, on top of it all, she had discovered that she had spoken to a man who supposedly was dead. It was a mystery that demanded to be solved, and Sandra was determined to do just that.

Author Notes I am seriously considering shelving this story since it seems difficult to follow for some. Looking for suggestions and honest answers. Thank you.


Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - currently unemployed
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow


Chapter 4
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 4

By Begin Again

ENDING OF CHAPTER 3

As she stepped out into the street, a sharp gust of wind whipped at her hair and clothes, but she barely registered the chill. The sun was gone, and so was her carefree mood. She couldn't stop thinking about the Judge and the strange events of the past few days that had turned her world upside down. She hurried across the street to buy the promised cannoli for Annie while a whirlwind of thoughts swirled inside her head. She could feel her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

With the promised purchase in hand, Sandra headed for her office building. Something, a noise, made her stop and turn back toward the Judge's building.

Were those footsteps?

She didn't see anyone, but she quickened her steps until she neared her office. She had inherited a mansion from a stranger, a man she had never met, and his wife had accused her of being his mistress. And now, on top of it all, she had discovered that she had spoken to a man who supposedly was dead. It was a mystery that demanded to be solved, and Sandra was determined to do just that.
*****

CHAPTER 4

Breathless, Sandra rushed into her office with Annie trailing behind her. "Slow down." Annie glanced at the door Sandra had rushed through seconds ago. "Sandra, what's wrong? You look a mess. What happened with the Judge?"

"Close the door, Annie. And lower your voice." Sandra collapsed into her office chair, trying to catch her breath. "I guess I didn't realize I was running."

Annie shut the door before asking, "Were you at the Judge's office all this time? Les asked if you'd left already. Something about sending one of the guys with you."

Sandra leaned across her desk, whispering, "No one's going with me, especially those guys. What did you tell him?"

"I said you might have gone home to pack. It seemed to pacify him."

"Good job!" Sandra handed the box of cannoli to her assistant.

"Oh, goodie, I was afraid you might have forgotten."

"Grab a chair. We need to talk."

Annie recognized the excitement in Sandra. She slipped into a chair and started rattling off questions. "Did you find out the inheritance was a hoax? Or did the Judge give you a story about the guy who died?" Annie giggled. "I know that gleam in your eye, Sandra. There's a story brewing inside that head of yours. What happened?"

With a smug expression plastered across her face, Sandra whispered, "The Judge was murdered."

"Murdered!" Annie shouted and then immediately lowered her voice. "You just saw him three days ago. What happened?"

Sandra's Cheshire cat smile said it all, "He was murdered in his office — a year ago."

"A year ago?" Annie's jaw dropped open. But the letter and the guy you met? An imposter?" Annie could tell there was more. "I admit that's a story, but there's something else. What is it?"

Sandra pulled the dusty book out of her bag and handed it to Annie. "The Secret Life of Judge Parker." Annie gasped. "Where did you get this, Sandra?"

"In a secret compartment in the bookcase. Open it."

Annie opened the cover and scanned a few pages. "Sandra, he's a criminal. Not just a petty thief, but an honest-to-goodness criminal."

"Which one — the one murdered or the one in Willow Creek? Or both?"

"Girlfriend, this is B-I-G!" Annie squealed. "Are you going to tell Les?"

"No! It's my story. You know he'll give it to Jarrod or Paul. He never thinks I can handle the dangerous stuff."

"Aren't you scared, though? It sounds like organized crime or at least some deep stuff. Men like that don't play nice. Admit it. Sandra, it's out of your league."

"Nobody knows I have the book except you. Let's keep it that way. If it looks too big, I'll let one of the guys in on it, but not until I give it a shot first. Agreed?"

"Agreed. So where do we begin?"

"In Willow Creek. Noah Wakefield left me the mansion for a reason. It's time to start unraveling the knots." She paused, thinking. "I'm just going to tell Les I'm taking a vacation to decide whether to keep the mansion or not."

"I'll see what I can find out about the murder. It had to make headlines, or it should have anyway. Strange that neither of us remembers hearing anything about a judge being murdered."

"This whole thing is strange, Annie. Remember to stay under the radar. I don't want Les or anyone getting wind of it, okay?"

"Okay!" Annie sunk her teeth into a cannoli and smiled. "You might owe me a few more of these by the time we are done."

"You got it! But now, I've got to go home and pack. It's a long drive to Willow Creek."

*****

The trip had given Sandra time to sort through her thoughts, but she was relieved when she entered the town of Willow Creek. She drove by the small shops, noting Petunia's Coffee Shop and the Grab It and Go Diner. On the edge of town, she recognized the iron gates marking the entrance to the cemetery. She turned in and stopped the car just inside the entrance. It was afternoon, but the cemetery no longer looked inviting.

An icy finger strummed her spine, and she shivered. Shaking her head, she changed her mind, put the car in reverse, and continued her journey toward the mansion.

Not today. Noah Wakefield. You've opened a can of worms. Was that your intention? But why me?

She was amazed to see Lorrie standing on the front porch, waving at her, as she entered the driveway.

How did she know I was coming?

As Sandra got out of her car, Lorrie scurried down the steps to greet her. She engulfed her in a warm embrace with genuine excitement. "You came! James and I feared you might not return after discovering about the Judge and all."

Sandra stepped back and stared at the housekeeper. "You know — about the Judge?" She felt the same foreboding feeling in her stomach again. "How did — was someone following me?"

Lorrie's hand flew to her mouth. "There, I've done it again. Rattling on." She grabbed Sandra's arm, squeezed it, and tugged her toward the house. "Never mind about an old lady and her babble. I'm preparing a dinner fit for a king, and of course, you'll want to see your new home."
 
The housekeeper sensed Sandra's hesitance and offered a warm, grandmotherly smile. "Come inside. We have a lot to talk about." Lorrie led her through the front door and into a cozy living room. "James will be joining us for a cup of tea. Make yourself at home, and I'll let him know you've arrived." She hurried from the room, stopping to adjust a crooked lampshade, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Sandra looked around the living room, admiring the plush furniture and warm decor. Though her thoughts of the Judge haunted her, Lorrie's cheerful demeanor, however strange at times, eased her anxiety.

As she sat on the couch, James entered the room with a friendly smile. "Sandra, it's so good to see you again. Lorrie told me you were coming for dinner." His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Lorrie has tea and goodies prepared in the dining room. Come before it gets cold. She's a dear but runs a tight kitchen."

"James, how did Lorrie know when I was arriving or if I was even going to visit?"

He shrugged. "Lorrie has her ways, I guess. Some kind of intuition, she says."

"But she knows about the Judge —"

His smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. "The Judge?" He glanced toward the kitchen and scowled. "I'll need to talk with the woman. She forgets her place at times." He paused. "What exactly did she say about him?"

"Don't be mad at her. She was excited to see me and said something about me not returning because I'd found out about the Judge."

"Hmmm. Interesting. And what did you find out about the Judge?"

Sandra felt her throat tighten as she gazed at James.

Do I tell him or wait to see what he says? No, I'm supposed to be a reporter, right? So, I'm not backing away from this. Besides, something tells me he probably already knows.

Sandra squared her shoulders and began, "I found the office address on the envelope and visited him since I was still debating about the inheritance. When I got to his office, or what was his office, a cleaning lady told me the judge had died — a year ago. Shot through the heart." Sandra ran her fingers across the fireplace mantle, steadying herself. "Who is the man you introduced me to if someone murdered Judge Parker?"

James looked uneasy but was reluctant to offer an answer. "In time, my dear. I promise you'll understand — in time."

"What are you hiding from me?" Sandra pressed. "Did Noah Wakefield know about the imposter? Are you in trouble, and those men are holding you hostage?"

James replied, "I don't think Noah knew anything about Judge Parker. He was a simple man who left everything unknown to others."

Sandra stared at James. "Did you know about the imposter? And what about the book?"

"Oh, dear me —" Lorrie rubbed her hands on her apron, looking frightened. "James, she found the book!"

"It's not your concern, Lorrie" James flashed her a dark look and then instantly changed his demeanor. "Is the tea ready? Our guest had a long trip and probably would like some refreshments."

Lorrie's expression betrayed her worry as she glanced at James, who seemed equally troubled, and then at Sandra. "James, we can't sweep this under the rug. She's found —"

James interrupted her with a heavy sigh. "I'm aware of the problem, Lorrie." He frowned, "Tea might settle everyone's nerves so we can discuss — things."

"Things?" Lorrie asked incredulously, her voice tinged with frustration. She shook her finger at James. "Ain't saying I told you so, but mind my word, this is going to be a mess if you're depending on those three." She spun around, calling James and Sandra. "Tea is waiting in the dining room."

James tried to hide his frustration, but he was obviously failing. Finally, he took Sandra's arm and weakly smiled. "Will you join me for tea?"

Sandra hesitated but, hoping for answers, responded. "Depends."

"On what?" James asked, his weary tone betraying his anxiety.

"Something is happening in this house, and I need - no, I deserve - to know what it is. How do you and Lorrie know about this book?" Sandra demanded, her voice betraying her suspicion.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you about the book right now, but I promise you'll learn the truth soon."

"Are the men you introduced me to at the cemetery involved?" Sandra probed further.

"Indirectly, I suppose," James replied. "Let's go to the dining room before Lorrie starts lecturing us again." Sandra followed James to the dining room, her curiosity piqued and her guard up. She could sense that something ominous was brewing, and she braced herself for what was to come.
 
You can't stop me from getting answers that easy, James! I smell a story, and it's a good one.

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - currently unemployed
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow


Chapter 5
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 5

By Begin Again

ENDING OF CHAPTER 4
"Something is happening in this house, and I need - no, I deserve - to know what it is. How do you and Lorrie know about this book?" Sandra demanded, her voice betraying her suspicion.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you about the book right now, but I promise you'll learn the truth soon."

"Are the men you introduced me to at the cemetery involved?" Sandra probed further.

"Indirectly, I suppose," James replied. "Let's go to the dining room before Lorrie starts lecturing us again." Sandra followed James to the dining room, her curiosity piqued and her guard up. She could sense that something ominous was brewing, and she braced herself for what was to come.

You can't stop me from getting answers that easy, James! I smell a story, and it's a good one.
 
*****

CHAPTER 5

Sandra marveled at the luxurious spread Lorrie had prepared for their tea — gleaming silver trays filled with dainty cucumber sandwiches, warm scones slathered with raspberry jam, and bite-sized cakes.

"Lorrie, this is not just a simple cup of tea. It's a grand feast," Sandra exclaimed.

Lorrie smiled with pride. "My mom taught me to treat guests with something special. I wanted to welcome you in style, but don't be expecting such extravagance every day."

"Oh, I wouldn't." Sandra looked at both of them with a hint of apprehension. "I'm not sure if I'll be staying yet. It depends on what either of you has to say."

Lorrie glanced at James, wiped her hands on her apron, and nodded at Sandra. "I'd like to stay, deary, but I've got a pot on the stove. I'll leave the talking to James."

"As if you haven't already said enough," James muttered, clearly annoyed. Lorrie snorted and left the room in a huff, leaving Sandra and James alone.

James stared at the teacup, not knowing where to start and what he should share with Sandra. Sensing his hesitance, she decided to stir the pot and jump right in. "You said you couldn't talk about the book, but you know about it, right?"

James nodded. "Noah asked that I come to live in the carriage house. We'd met long ago, and he knew I dabbled in writing."

"You're a writer? I'd have never guessed. Any writer I've met always has a lot to say, and you tend to limit your words."

"I prefer to put my thoughts on paper. That way, if I speak out of turn, I can make a correction before anyone reads it, unlike Lorrie, whose chattering has gotten us to this point."

"Don't be so hard on her." Sandra sipped her tea and chose a scone from the tray. As she nibbled at the edges, she decided what to say. "You must know I've read the book, not every detail, but enough. I also learned about Judge Parker's untimely death. Didn't you think I'd be suspicious of all of you, especially another man claiming to be the deceased?"

"To be honest, we never considered you'd go to his office. I guess that was a major flaw on my part."

"So, you didn't know about the book or didn't expect me to find it, which is it?"

"I'd been told about the book but had no idea of its whereabouts. Have you shared its contents with anyone else, by any chance?"

"If you are referring to my boss, absolutely not. Annie, my assistant, knows, of course. Why does it matter?"

"You read it, so I would assume that some dangerous people might not look favorably on the book or on you. Can you see how troublesome this can be?" James rested his forehead against his hands. Forgive me; I should never have brought you into this."

She could see James's discomfort and expected badgering him wouldn't get her what she wanted to know. So, she decided on a different approach. "Okay, we table the conversation about the book and the Judge for now."

James raised his head and looked across the table at her. "I promise you'll learn everything I know, but I can't tell you now. It would have been safer for you if you hadn't discovered it."

"Can you enlighten me as to why Noah left the mansion to me? Why not his wife?"

James raised his left eyebrow, followed by a slight frown. "So much for tabling the questions," he said.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to understand what's going on. You brought me here for a reason, but now you don't want to tell me why. Am I to stumble about the property until I trip and find something." Sandra's eyes lit up, and suddenly, she seemed far away. She mused, "Maybe hidden bodies or some great treasure? Or is the mansion haunted? Now that would be a story!"

James bolted from his chair as if he'd been sitting on a whoopie cushion. He spun away from the table and then back, grasping to regain his composure. "Dead bodies! Treasure! Ghosts! Ridiculous!" James walked away, muttering. "Now, which one of us is the writer?"

"You must admit if the book has anything to do with this house, the crime bosses could have buried anything here — well, couldn't they have?"

"I assure you I know of no crim—" James rethought his words. "You'll not find any Bugsy Malone, Pretty Boy Floyd, or the likes around here."

He huffed and walked around the room, examining small trinkets, arranging a row of books, and stopping to gaze through the window. He was calmer when he spoke again, "You haven't seen the property yet, but it's beautiful. I fell in love with the rose garden the moment I saw it. Noah knew I loved this place. He also knew he was ill, and his days were numbered." He stood silent for several minutes and then returned to the table. "Noah transferred the deed into my name almost a year ago."

"Your name! Now I am baffled." Sandra sipped some tea, letting the hot brew clear her throat. "Then — why was it willed to me?"

"The only thing Noah was concerned about was my writing and Madeline not getting the property. He knew he was dying, another secret he kept from his wife. Or thought he did!"

"If the house were in your name, Madeline wouldn't have a claim to it. And why was your writing so important to him?"

"Noah believed the mansion had a secret hidden within its walls, a treasure of sorts." A sigh escaped his lips. It's not dead bodies either, though there is a small cemetery on the property, up on the hill. As you were asking, I've been trying to uncover information, but I'm not an investigator. Unfortunately, Madeline found some papers Noah was reading and learned about the possible treasure. She'd rip every wall down, if she could, searching."

"So, this is about a treasure hunt?"

"It was — until Noah was murdered." He watched Sandra's reaction. It was precisely what he expected.

She gasped. "Murdered? Was there an investigation? Who did it?" Sandra was stunned, uncovering two murders in one day and a treasure. "Don't stop now!"

"Noah and I usually share our morning coffee in the garden. It was drizzling that day, and he didn't come to the carriage house. I heard someone screaming as I approached the house. I hurried in and found Lorrie kneeling next to Noah's body."

"You said he was ill. What made you think it was murder?"

"I didn't right then. Madeline heard Lorrie's screams and came rushing downstairs. Lorrie was about to call for an ambulance, but Madeline grabbed the phone out of her hand and ordered her to return to the kitchen."

"Of course, Lorrie was fuming, but she does know her place with Madeline. She left. On the other hand, I was stunned when she also asked me to leave. She said she would make the calls and handle everything herself since she was his wife."

"Strange, but as his wife, I imagine she had every right. Maybe she was overwhelmed with grief and didn't want to fall apart in front of either of you."

"I'll give you that since you don't know Madeline."

"I did see her at the funeral. She appeared to be a very distraught widow."

"You and everyone attending the funeral saw what Madeline wanted them to see."

"That still doesn't explain why you think Noah was murdered."

"The sheriff arrived about fifteen minutes after I left the house. He stayed for quite some time. An unmarked vehicle arrived about an hour later and took Noah's body away."

"Strange, but it still doesn't say murder."

"There's only one funeral home in Willow Creek, and when I called, I was told his body had not been brought there."

"What? Then where was he taken?" Sandra's head was spinning with questions.

"I've already said too much. I'm sorry. I've got some things to take care of. Maybe we could talk later." James stood and left the room without another word. Sandra watched him leave while her thoughts went wild.

*****

"Lorrie, I need some air. I think I'll drive into town. Don't hold dinner for me. Thanks for the wonderful tea and treats, though."

The housekeeper appeared in the kitchen doorway. "It'll be getting dark soon. You aren't familiar with the roads. Wouldn't a walk through the gardens suffice?"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry. I live in the big city and always go out at night."

Sandra waved, grabbed her sweater from her suitcase, and hurried outside to her car.

"Big city or not, dearie, it's not Willow Creek." She wiped her hands on her apron and raised her eyes toward the ceiling. "Please watch over her, my Lord."

*****

The drive into town wasn't long and Sandra soon found herself sitting inside Petunia's Coffee Shop. She'd chosen a window view. Maybe people-watching would help her calm her nerves. She had so many questions.

Did Noah die because he was ill, or was he murdered like James suspects? Maybe the detective could check the records and see what the death certificate said. What would it hurt if I called and asked? What was his name? Think, Sandra! Ryan — Ham — Ryan Hamilton.

The waitress approached with the coffee pot. "Got a fresh pot. Would you like a cup? We've got homemade blueberry or peach pie."

Sandra smiled. "Thank you. Just coffee and some sugar, please."

The girl cocked her head to the side and looked at Sandra, smiling. "I remember you. Weren't you at Noah's funeral?"

A pink glow spread across Sandra's cheeks. "I'm afraid I caused a scene."

"No, you didn't. That was all on Madeline's shoulders. She's a witch. Ms. Wakefield and her girlfriends meet here every Wednesday morning for coffee. She never has a nice thing to say about Noah or anyone else, for that matter. Never could figure out why a woman as young as her would marry an older man unless she was after his money. Looks like she didn't have to wait long."

"But she seemed so distraught. And the things she said —"

"Don't you give it another thought. None of the decent folks in this town believed a word she said."

"Thanks. That makes me feel a little better." Sandra thought for a moment and then asked, "Do you happen to have the police department's number?"

"You're not in trouble, are you?" The young waitress indeed seemed concerned. "Did Madeline Wakefield threaten you or something?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. I just wanted to ask Detective Hamilton a few questions. I met him after the funeral and —"

"After Noah's funeral? Are you sure it was Ryan Hamilton?"

"Well, I could be wrong, but I thought he introduced himself as Detective Hamilton."

"Hon, Madeline must have really shaken you up. Detective Hamilton was shot and killed during a traffic stop last year."

Sandra's eyes widened, but she recovered quickly. "Oh, you're right. Silly me!"

"I could get the sheriff if it's important."

"Oh, no! I probably got the name wrong. He said something I was curious about, nothing important."

"Enjoy your coffee, and don't worry about rushing out of here. It's really slow today. Can I get you anything else, a slice of pie or some warm cookies?" Sandra declined the offer, and the young girl moved away, leaving Sandra stunned once again.

What have I gotten myself involved in? A murdered judge and now a detective, not to mention the possibility that Noah Wakefield was murdered too. Maybe I am over my head! But before I leave this town, I'm going to meet those three men again and get some answers. Mark my words!

She took a sip of coffee and gazed out the window. Her mind was preoccupied with all the strange events since she received the letter. While she thought, she was drawn to people-watching.

Sandra jumped at the sound of a voice beside her. The young waitress stood near Sandra's table as she spoke, "There's our grieving widow now." She chuckled and added, "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you." She laughed again and walked away.

Sandra turned her head so she could see Madeline getting out of the car. Without her black veil, she looked different today, much younger and sexier. Sandra's attention shifted to the passenger getting out of the passenger seat. He walked around to the driver's side, laughing and saying something to Madeline. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned in for a kiss. It wasn't a friendly peck on the cheek; instead, they locked lips in a passionate show of affection.

Sandra choked on her coffee and spewed it all over the table, shocked by what she saw. She could see he was in uniform.

Very interesting! Now, that wasn't a friendly kiss and hug by my standards. And your husband just died. Hmm! Was he the same officer who came to the mansion the day Noah died? Maybe I should have listened a little better to what James said about that day. Was the officer there to console the widow or to cover up a murder?

Sandra pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket and tossed it on the table.
 
What other secrets is this Willow Creek hiding?


 
 
 
 

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - currently unemployed
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow


Chapter 6
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 6

By Begin Again

ENDING OF CHAPTER 5
Sandra jumped at the sound of a voice beside her. The young waitress stood near Sandra's table as she spoke, "There's our grieving widow now." She chuckled and added, "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you." She laughed again and walked away.

Sandra turned her head to see Madeline getting out of the car. Without her black veil, she looked different today, much younger and sexier. Sandra's attention shifted to the passenger getting out of the passenger seat. He walked around to the driver's side, laughing and saying something to Madeline. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned in for a kiss. It wasn't a friendly peck on the cheek; instead, they locked lips in a passionate show of affection.

Sandra choked on her coffee and spewed it all over the table, shocked by what she saw. She could see he was in uniform.

Very interesting! Now, that wasn't a friendly kiss and hug by my standards. And your husband just died. Hmm! Was he the same officer who came to the mansion the day Noah died? Maybe I should have listened better to what James said about that day. Was the officer there to console the widow or to cover up a murder?

Sandra pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket and tossed it on the table.

What other secrets is Willow Creek hiding?
 
*****
CHAPTER 6

As Sandra leisurely strolled along the wooden boardwalk, she couldn't help but admire the charming store windows that showcased a variety of delightful handmade crafts, freshly baked goodies, and trendy fashion wear. Each store had unique displays of treasures that piqued Sandra's curiosity and filled her with wonder. Despite the town's relatively small size, the stores offered a vast selection of intriguing items that left her feeling pleasantly surprised, but it didn't stop the thoughts nagging her.

Charm can only go so far, Sandra. Don't forget that Willow Creek has secrets lurking everywhere, including at the mansion.

Thoughts of the mansion reminded her that Lorrie would be worried if she didn't return soon, so she quickly retraced her steps back to her car.

Opening the door to her car, she noticed something strange - a small piece of paper was tucked under her windshield wiper. She couldn't imagine who could have left it there. The only people she knew in town were James and Lorrie. The waitress at the diner, who had been so kind to her earlier, came to mind, but Sandra couldn't think of anything else the waitress might want to tell her. She stepped around the car door and moved closer so she could reach the paper.

As she unfolded it, her heart began to race. The message on the paper read —

Go home! Unless you want to make the cemetery your permanent address.

Sandra gasped and looked around, but there was no one in sight.

It's a threat! Who would do this? And why?

Now, she knew something sinister was happening in the town, and somehow, she was part of it.

I need answers, and I'm going to get them one way or another.

As she drove towards the mansion, darkness had already enveloped the countryside, and time had slipped away. The message she received earlier had left her with a lingering sense of unease. The road was dark except for the pale moonlight, filtering through the tall maple tree branches and casting eerie shadows across the winding road, playing with her imagination. Yet, she was determined not to be afraid.

As Sandra rounded the curve, the cemetery was on the left side. The mansion was further down the road. The iron gates towered above the hedge line. She slowed the car to a crawl, staring at the enormous gates and beyond. She should have driven past, but her decision was made.

As she drove through the gates, the gravestones rose around her like silent sentinels in the night. The crunch of gravel beneath her tires echoed through the stillness, and a shiver ran down her spine as she peered through the windshield, straining to see anything beyond the inky blackness of the sky.

Then she saw it — flickering lights or torches in the distance. They seemed to be moving. Curious, she stopped the car and got out to take a better look, but they were gone. The night was chilly, and the silence was broken only by the sounds of crickets.

Am I imagining things now? I know something was there.

Rubbing her eyes, she strained, hoping to see the lights again. To her surprise, they were there again. She counted the blobs — one, two, three, four, five. Her body tensed as she watched, wondering what or who they were.

A male voice broke the silence, "You shouldn't be here."

Sandra's heart skipped a beat, and she trembled violently as a cold chill ran down her spine. His hand touched her shoulder, and she let out a piercing scream that echoed across the cemetery. Her eyes widened with terror as she spun around to face the speaker.

Her voice cracked. "Judge — Parker?"

He took hold of her arm and led her towards the car. "I didn't mean to scare you, but being in the cemetery at night is unsafe."

Sandra was confused as her eyes darted around the area. "Where did you come from?" She pointed across the grassy hill. "There were lights. Did you see the lights?"

The Judge questioned her, "Lights? No, I don't think so. Could it have been my flashlight?"

Sandra shook her head and insisted, "There were five lights, possibly torches, on the top of that hill."

"I don't see anything, dear. It's getting late, and you've had quite the day. If you don't mind, you can give me a ride to the mansion, and we can talk. I know a shortcut through the cemetery. I'll show you."

As Sandra walked towards her car, she kept glancing at the gravestones and the hill, searching for any signs of movement.

I know I saw lights! And how did the Judge suddenly appear out of nowhere? Who is he really? Why was he here, and what wasn't he telling me?

As she slipped behind the wheel, she glanced up the hill again and then at the man beside her. He was holding the note she'd found earlier and frowning.

"I'm sorry, but it was lying on the seat when I got in. Where did it come from?"

Sandra pursed her lips and sighed. "Someone put it on my windshield while I was in town. Probably some kid is playing a joke on the new person in town."

"A joke? It doesn't seem funny to me." The Judge studied the message. "Did it scare you?"

"Scare me?" Sandra rolled her eyes and forced a smile. "Why would it scare me?" She hoped he couldn't see the goosebumps covering her arms. "Like I said, it probably was a silly joke."

But I'm not laughing! And neither are you, it seems.

The Judge gave Sandra directions, "Follow this road around the curve and then take the fork to the right. The mansion's only five minutes from there. I walk this way every night."

While Sandra watched the road, her passenger seemed content to look out the window and remained silent for the remainder of the trip.

So much for talking. I'm not crazy. I saw those lights, and I think you did, too.

*****

The grand Victorian mansion loomed above the trees as Sandra's car pulled into the driveway, casting an impressive shadow over the grounds.

"You can drop me here if you don't mind. I will walk around to the carriage house. James is expecting me." He opened the car door. "Thanks for the ride, but I recommend staying out of the cemetery at night. You never know what might be lurking in the darkness." He closed the door, waved, and disappeared down the path as Sandra drove closer to the house.

Lorrie turned on the outdoor lights, illuminating the pathway to the porch. The bubbly housekeeper greeted Sandra at the door with a warm smile. The delightful aroma of pot roast filled the air.

"I was beginning to worry. You were gone for a long time." They both entered the home, and Lorrie closed the door. "You've missed dinner, but I'd be happy to warm you a plate," Lorrie offered, noticing Sandra's weariness.

"I didn't mean to worry you, Lorrie. I just had a lot on my mind." Sandra looked around for her suitcase. "I just think I need some rest, but thank you."

Lorrie continued to fuss, "If you change your mind, there's always leftovers in the fridge." She smiled, "Now go ahead and get some rest. I had James carry your suitcase upstairs before returning to the carriage house. I've prepared you a hot bath and turned down your bed."

"Oh, I didn't mean to be a bother."

"No bother. You go ahead and relax now. A good night's sleep will make everything look chipper in the morning. You wait and see."

Sandra doubted that was possible, but as she climbed the stairs, she had to admire the mansion's interior. The intricate details of the chandelier and the antique decorations were a testament to the mansion's rich history. She couldn't wait to bathe and crawl into bed, but she wondered if sleep would come.

Lorrie's voice echoed up the stairwell as Sandra reached the top landing. "Goodnight."

*****

Sandra stirred from her sleep and fumbled for the lamp on the nightstand. She rolled over in the large four-poster bed and swung her legs over the edge. Her stomach rumbled and growled, reminding her that the scone with jam she had earlier could hardly pass for a meal. Her mouth was already watering as she thought of the pot roast waiting in the refrigerator.

The chilly night air had made the room's temperature drop. She slipped on her fluffy housecoat and warm slippers and tiptoed to the door, unsure of where Lorrie's bedroom was in the large house. She listened and then quietly opened the door.

As she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, she was struck by the beauty of the tiny sconces that illuminated the walls with a soft and warm glow. The plush carpet beneath her feet made her feel like she was walking on a cloud, muffling the sound of her steps. She hesitated momentarily as she approached the stairs, unsure whether to go down.

Am I crazy, or do I hear voices? It's strange that Lorrie didn't mention any other guests. Could it be the Judge meeting with James? But it's so late.

She leaned over the banister, peering into the darkness. She couldn't see their faces, but she could hear their heated argument.

"This is getting out of hand! It was supposed to be simple."

"We couldn't have known she'd go to your office and discover the book."

"Well, she says she has it." James lowered his voice. "How does that affect you, Bill?"

"It's her I am worried about, not me. If they learn the book has been discovered, things could get ugly. She won't be safe. Someone has already threatened her."

Sandra shivered as she listened.

Who are these men? They're talking about me and the book. One of them must be James. Are the others the men from the cemetery? What does the book have to do with the mansion?

Ryan's voice was frustrated as he spoke, "We didn't bring her here for the book. And tonight, the Judge says she saw the lights in the cemetery. You know she isn't going to forget it. I bet she starts questioning you, James, as soon as she sits down for breakfast."

"Seeing the lights is a problem. How do we explain that away?" James shook his head and paced the room.

"First, the book, then the lights. And don't forget the note. How long before she discovers who we are?"

Benny's voice was laced with anger. "That's not finding Noah's killer. The book has nothing to do with his death, does it?"

James intervened, "We need to calm down. Screaming at each other won't solve a thing. We brought her here, but not to put her life in danger. If that's the case, we need to send her packing."
 
"James, we both know if she smells a story, she's not going anywhere."

*****

"Are you alright, deary?"

Intent on the conversation below, Sandra didn't hear nor expect Lorrie to approach her from behind. She bumped her head against the railing. "Ouch! She rubbed her head as she bolted to her feet,screamed and then stammered, "Lorrie, I thought —"

"Child, you'll catch a chill sitting in this drafty hallway." The housekeeper swept a wisp of gray hair from her face. "You should be in bed."

Knowing she was caught red-handed eavesdropping, she shrugged and said, "I heard voices arguing."

"Arguing? No, child, just some men having a meeting of the minds. Pay no, never mind to them. Come along. I brought you something to eat."

"But they were talking about me and —"

Lorrie slipped her arm around Sandra's waist and steered her back to the bedroom. "Stop your fretting. Here I thought you were tucked away, fast sleep. Now, I find you're roaming the cold hallway. Tsk, tsk, that will never do."

Once inside, she tossed back the comforter and waved for Sandra to climb in.

Her guest continued to clamor about what she'd overheard, "Lorrie, those men —"

"If you catch the death of cold, you'll not find any of your answers, so get in bed, and I'll give you a serving tray before the plate gets cold again. I lit a fire so the room will be toasty in a minute or two." She patted Sandra's legs under the comforter. "Let things be for the night."

Drained and confused, Sandra snuggled under the covers, thinking maybe Lorrie was right.

As the housekeeper prepared to leave, she stopped at the doorway and winked. "There's a stairway at the end of the hall leading to the kitchen. Just in case, you might want more to eat. It's shorter, so I use it a lot."

She opened the door, adding, "Now, I'm sure the men are wondering what the screaming was about, so I have that to attend to." She shook her head, mumbling, "My work is never done, it seems."

With a final glance at Sandra, she added, "Now, deary, I see you stewing over there. Just don't go jumping on the train before it even pulls into the station. You get something warm in your stomach and a good night's rest, and I am sure the men will be sitting down with you in the morning."

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - currently unemployed
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow


Chapter 7
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 7

By Begin Again

ENDING OF CHAPTER 6

"If you catch the death of cold, you'll not find any of your answers, so get in bed, and I'll give you a serving tray before the plate gets cold again. I lit a fire so the room will be toasty in a minute or two." She patted Sandra's legs under the comforter. "Let things be for the night."

Drained and confused, Sandra snuggled under the covers, thinking maybe Lorrie was right.

As the housekeeper prepared to leave, she stopped at the doorway and winked. "There's a stairway at the end of the hall leading to the kitchen. Just in case, you might want more to eat. It's shorter, so I use it a lot."

She opened the door, adding, "Now, I'm sure the men are wondering what the screaming was about, so I have that to attend to." She shook her head, mumbling, "My work is never done, it seems."

With a final glance at Sandra, she added, "Now, deary, I see you stewing over there. Just don't go jumping on the train before it even pulls into the station. You get something warm in your stomach and a good night's rest, and I am sure the men will be sitting down with you in the morning."

*****

CHAPTER 7

Lorrie entered the dining room, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies that filled the room with a warm, inviting aroma. Bite-size sandwiches, neatly arranged and garnished with colorful vegetables, shared the tray.

"Well, I hope your meeting of the minds has figured something out," she smirked. "If not, you'll need food to get your brains fired up."

James stopped his restless pacing and fixed his gaze on Lorrie. "Woman, what are you ranting about? Can't you see we are busy?"

Lorrie's smirk widened. "James, are you telling me you didn't hear her scream?" She looked at each of the men in the room. "You can thank me for startling her. Otherwise, she'd have been sitting on the steps all night listening to the likes of you fretting. You wouldn't have had to worry about telling her."

Ryan sprang out of his chair and approached Lorrie. "She was listening?" He frowned and turned to stare at James and the Judge. "I told you she wouldn't stop until she pieced it together. You didn't give her enough credit when you picked her."

"It's about time one of you said something intelligent. She might be new to the investigation business, but she's smart — maybe too smart, which can get her in trouble, especially if she does it alone."

Benny yawned and stretched his legs. "What's all the yelling about? I was trying to take a nap."

"Forget about a nap and start helping us figure this out."

"Well, if you ask me, I oughta find my .38 and pop a few people. Who's going to miss them?" Benny laughed. "Oh, that's right. I'm retired, so to speak."

Lorrie scowled and moved closer to Benny. "You think you're funny! In case you forget, this is your last chance. If you blow it, you'll be sitting with the devil."

"I know! I know!" He shrugged. "Old habits are hard to break." Benny offered her a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry."

"Your .38 is at the bottom of the river, exactly where they found your body. You were swimming with the fishes, if you remember." The Judge frowned. "Benny, you need to take this seriously, or Lorrie's right — you'll be burning in hell."

"Can we get back to the question at hand?" Ryan interjected into the Judge and Benny's conversation. "I think we lay it on the table and let her decide whether she wants in. If she does, one of us must always be by her side. Agreed?"

James rejoined the group. "Do we tell her everything?"

"I say yes." The Judge asked for a show of hands. "That includes you, too, Lorrie."

She raised her hand and said, "If you don't tell her up front, she'll be a hellion when she finds out. It's better to know where we stand."

"Well, I guess we can all get some rest now."

As they started to say their goodnights, the front doorbell rang.

"Goodness me, who in blazes would be ringing the bell at this time of night?" Lorrie hurried to the front door, with James following closely behind. As she opened the door, she exclaimed, "Bloody! If it isn't the devil herself."

"You can't speak to me like that!" Madeline pushed past Lorrie as she entered the house. "James, since you're in charge, please keep the help in line." Madeline shot a haughty expression in Lorrie's direction.

Lorrie quickly piped, "Did you forget we have a new lady of the house?"

"If you are referring to that impertinent woman who had the nerve to attend my husband's funeral, you are wrong," she sneered, her voice laced with venom. "She'll be unable to give my home the care it needs. She'll be gone in a few weeks, mark my word."

"And when did you ever lift a finger to care for this house?" Lorrie smirked.

"Ladies, please. Save the hen-fight for another day. It's late, and I'd like to retire."

"Feel free, James. I know where to find my room."

Lorrie sputtered, "Your room? You forfeited any rights to that room when Mr. Wakefield caught you and the sheriff rolling around in the bed upstairs."

"It would benefit you to keep to your kitchen instead of listening outside private quarters. It's time you learned your place," Madeline snapped.

"Why you —" Lorrie's face was red with rage.

James stepped between them. "Lorrie, I believe you were going to check on our guest. And Madeline, what brings you knocking at the mansion's door near midnight?"

"I have a flat tire on the Caddy. Noah was too cheap to replace them, and they're nearly bald," she whined.

"I doubt that! Regardless, you are welcome to use the phone to call road service."

"I tried. No one can come until the morning, so I'll need to stay in my old room. You wouldn't refuse a poor grieving widow a place to lay her weary head, now would you, James?"

"You can save the dramatics, Madeline. You aren't a grieving widow by any standards. As for the room, you can stay till the flat is fixed.

"Oh, James, you are such a dear." Madeline blew him a kiss and quickly ascended the stairs. "Oh, Lorrie, don't worry about my bath."

Rage bubbled inside Lorrie. She looked at James, then stormed into the kitchen, afraid she might throw something at the woman.

*****

"Madeline will be joining us for breakfast." James stood in the kitchen doorway, afraid Lorrie might throw something at him.

"I can't believe you let her stay. We can't have the talk with Sandra as planned, though it would be amusing to see what Ryan and Benny might do with her breakfast. Floating orange juice or flipping flapjacks!" Lorrie's belly rumbled with laughter. "Or I could slip some rat poisoning in her food."

"Absolutely not!"

"I was just kidding, of course." But the smile on her face said otherwise.

"The meeting with Sandra will have to wait. I'll go and tell the guys. No shenanigans, Lorrie. Understood?"

"If you insist but —"

"No buts! I mean it, Lorrie. We're supposed to be getting them out of trouble, not digging the hole deeper."

"Get along with you now. It's better to have the conversation at the carriage house. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. If we're lucky, Madeline will be asleep."

"One can hope." James smiled and hurried out toward the carriage house.

*****

As soon as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Sandra jumped out of bed and hurried to her bedroom window. She pushed the drapes back and opened the window, taking a deep breath of the fresh, crisp morning air. It was a welcome contrast to the polluted city air she had been breathing for the past few years.

Suddenly, a tap at her door interrupted her peaceful moment. "Coming," she called out, feeling a bit annoyed.

Despite the interruption, Sandra was excited to see Lorrie and the rest of the house. She swung open the door, ready to start her day. "Good morning, Lor-" she began but stopped mid-sentence when she saw Madeline standing before her. Her mouth dropped. "Madeline."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I heard a voice, and I thought I should investigate." Madeline peeked over Sandra's shoulder. "I wasn't aware you were in residence already."

Sandra was surprised to see Madeline, and her expression showed it. "I didn't expect to see you here either," she replied.

"I had car trouble, and James insisted I stay. After all, I did live here until a few days ago."

"Of course. I'm only here for a few days." Sandra hesitated and replied, "After all, Noah left the house to me." Before Madeline could respond, Sandra closed the door, feeling a surge of satisfaction. She leaned against it, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. A grin crept across her face.

Now that felt good!

*****
Sandra showered and took her time preparing for the day. She chose her favorite jeans and a loose baby blue shirt over a white tank top. By the time she was ready, her stomach was rumbling.

She was surprised to see Madeline in the hall as she closed her bedroom door. "Are you going down to breakfast? The bacon is calling my name."

"No, I'm feeling a bit queasy this morning. Would you tell Lorraine I'll have something later? I think I'll go back to bed for a while."

Sandra nodded and hurried down the stairs without another thought about the grieving widow.

*****

Sandra stepped into the kitchen and let out a contented sigh. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted towards her, and she hurried towards the pot.

"Good morning, Lorrie. You should have warned me that the mornings were so beautiful," she said as she poured herself a cup.

Lorrie smiled. "It's so nice to see you so chipper this morning, dear. Not to dampen your mood, but have you heard we have a guest? More like a witch if you ask me."

Sandra raised an eyebrow. "She was at my door this morning. Said she was surprised to see me."

"My goodness! What did the woman want?" Lorrie filled herself a cup. "Cream and sugar are on the table if you want them."

"Thank you. Will James be joining us for breakfast?" Sandra frowned. "I almost forgot that Madeline said she wasn't feeling well and might skip breakfast."

"James planned on it, but Madeline tossed a wrench into his plans. He was a bit sour when he left." She handed Sandra a small plate with a warm cinnamon roll. "Shall we enjoy the morning on the porch? And maybe you'd like to stroll through the gardens afterward. The roses are starting to open, and they smell so good. You might need a light sweater, though."

"I'd love that." Sandra placed her coffee mug on the table. "Should I grab my sweater now?"

"I've got a plate of bacon, piping hot, and the cinnamon rolls. Let's enjoy them, and then you can run back upstairs to get the sweater."

Sandra inhaled the aroma and smiled. "Sounds delicious to me."

Sandra took the coffee mugs outside, and Lorrie followed closely behind. "Your Highness would never have shared a moment like this with me. I hope you decide to stay, Sandra."

"It's beautiful, Lorrie. The sweet smell of blooming roses. Look, two hummingbirds are flitting from flower to flower." Sandra sighed. "But as for staying, we'll see after my talk with James."

******

While the two women enjoyed the morning, Madeline slipped into Sandra's room.

"Let's see who you are and why Noah would leave this mansion to you?"

She quickly opened the drawers and then the suitcase. After checking the armoire, Madeline was disappointed. "Where does this woman shop? The Goodwill? She lives in the big city, and we've got far more fashionable clothes right here in Willow Creek."

Sandra and Lorrie's laughter drifted through the open window. "She's sharing breakfast with the help? How low can she go?"

Taking a few more looks around the room, Madeline shook her head. "There's nothing here worth seeing."

As she headed towards the door, her eyes caught a glimpse of the handles of a brown satchel peeking out from under the bed. Curiosity piqued, she bent down and pulled it out, her fingers tracing the leather texture. She unzipped it and stared at a book with a beautiful, leather-bound cover.

"Hmmm, what do we have here?" Madeline pulled the leather-bound book out and read the cover. "The Secret Life of Judge Parker." Intrigued, she opened the book and began to read. With each passing moment, her heart raced faster and faster as she realized the magnitude of what she had uncovered.

"I don't know who you are, Judge Parker, or how you're connected to Sandra Monroe, but I promise to find out. For my own benefit, of course."

Madeline debated whether to take the book now or later. She decided it was too obvious if it disappeared while she was upstairs alone. She needed a plan. She slipped it back into the satchel and pushed it under the bed, murmuring, "I'll be back."

As she stood up, she couldn't shake the feeling that Sandra Monroe wasn't the person she appeared to be. "Well, Miss Ugly Duckling, what are you hiding under those bland feathers of yours?"

She walked towards the door, opened it, and hurried down the hall to her room, her eyes scanning the area for Sandra. As she reached her door, she turned and saw Sandra standing at the top of the stairs.

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - currently unemployed
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow


Chapter 8
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 8

By Begin Again

ENDING OF CHAPTER 7

Taking a few more looks around the room, Madeline shook her head. "There's nothing here worth seeing."

As she headed towards the door, her eyes caught a glimpse of the handles of a brown satchel peeking out from under the bed. Curiosity piqued, she bent down and pulled it out, her fingers tracing the leather texture. She unzipped it and stared at a book with a beautiful, leather-bound cover.

"Hmmm, what do we have here?" Madeline pulled the leather-bound book out and read the cover. "The Secret Life of Judge Parker." Intrigued, she opened the book and began to read. With each passing moment, her heart raced faster and faster as she realized the magnitude of what she had uncovered.

"I don't know who you are, Judge Parker, or how you're connected to Sandra Monroe, but I promise to find out. For my benefit, of course."

Madeline debated whether to take the book now or later. She decided it was too obvious if it disappeared while she was upstairs alone. She needed a plan. She slipped it back into the satchel and pushed it under the bed, murmuring, "I'll be back."

As she stood up, she couldn't shake the feeling that Sandra Monroe wasn't the person she appeared to be. "Well, Miss Ugly Duckling, what are you hiding under those bland feathers of yours?"

She walked towards the door, opened it, and hurried down the hall to her room, her eyes scanning the area for Sandra. As she reached her door, she turned and saw Sandra standing at the top of the stairs.
 
*****

CHAPTER 8

Hmm, what's she doing in the hallway again?

Sandra stood still at the top of the stairs, her eyes carefully following Madeline's hurried steps as she approached her bedroom door. A frown creased her forehead as she called out, "Madeline, do you need something?"

Madeline's body jerked as she spun around to face Sandra. Her expression was one of fear as if she had been caught red-handed. She stuttered, "Ne-ed some-thing? No — not really." She took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "I knocked on your door. I was hoping you could ask Lorrie to bring me a little nourishment. I'm feeling a bit under the weather and doubt I can make it down to the kitchen."

Sandra stared at the woman but added, "I hope it's nothing serious."

"No, no, not at all. Don't worry about it. I'll be fine after some rest," Madeline reassured her. "Though, I might have to extend my stay for another day."

"You should stay in bed." Sandra nodded and opened her bedroom door. "I'll grab my sweater and let Lorrie know when I go back downstairs. Will tea and toast be enough?"

Madeline coughed. "Tea and toast? Maybe something more substantial like biscuits, sausage, and eggs. Nothing fancy, of course. Whatever she has on hand. Please tell her that I don't mean to be a bother." She touched the back of her hand to her forehead and then opened her door. "I just need some rest."

Sandra watched Madeline disappear into her room and close the door before finally entering her bedroom. She quickly checked to see if anything was missing, but everything seemed to be in place. And then she remembered.

"The book!" She hurried to the bed and dropped to her knees, peering under the bed. The satchel with the book was still there. Sandra breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Lord."

Her respite was short-lived. Spying a small piece of old yellow paper peeking from under the nightstand, Sandra snatched it and examined it.

She read, "Shipment delivered by Theo. Next shipment April 12, 1921." The signature was JWP — Judge William Parker. Her eyes widened as she stared at the note.

The names were familiar, but how could they be?

"Over one hundred years ago!"

And how did it get under the nightstand?

Madeline!

Sandra's thoughts swirled like a leaf in the wind.

The paper matches the pages in the book. Did the note fall out when she opened it? If she read it, does she have any idea what it is? If she has a plan, how will it affect the mansion or me? I have more questions than answers, but I think James holds the key.

"It's time we talk."

*****

Sandra grabbed her sweater and rushed down the stairs. When she reached the dining room, she called out loudly, "Lorrie! Lorrie!"

Lorrie hurried through the kitchen door, scowling. "What's got you so excited, child?"

"I've got to talk to James. I believe Madeline was in my room and saw the book."

"The book!" Lorrie twisted her apron into a knot and then straightened it out again. "Dear me! James isn't here. He had to make a delivery."

"A delivery?" Sandra scowled. "How long will he be gone? I don't trust Madeline; she says she must stay longer because she's ill."

Lorrie nodded in agreement. "That woman is up to no good; you can be sure of that." She knotted her apron again while she thought. "I'll take her a bite to eat and see if I can learn anything. And James should be back soon."

"I hope so," Sandra sighed as she slipped her sweater over her shoulders. "I think I will walk in the garden if you don't mind."

"Go, my child. Just don't stray too far," warned Lorrie. "I better get Madeline something to eat before she howls that she's starving." The housekeeper snarled, "I thought we were through with that woman in this house." With that, she stomped back into the kitchen, determined to discover what Madeline was up to.

*****

Sandra took her time strolling through the garden, savoring the delightful scent of blooming roses that filled the air. The morning sun cast a warm golden glow across the rolling hills and lush fields, creating a picturesque view that took her breath away. She paused to admire the carriage house's charming windows and ivy-covered walls. Attached under each window were flower boxes overflowing with vibrant flowers, adding to the beauty.

Despite its small size, Sandra could see why James had chosen to stay there instead of the grand mansion. The carriage house exuded an air of tranquility and seclusion, making it an ideal place for a writer to work.

As she moved past the rose hedges, she walked through a mesmerizing field of wildflowers. The colors of the flowers were like a rainbow, and they swayed gently in the breeze as if dancing to a silent symphony. Lorrie's words, "Don't stray too far," echoed in her mind, but she couldn't resist the allure of this enchanting place.

Sandra continued wandering until the path led her through a dense forest of tall oaks that opened into a clearing. To her surprise, she discovered a cemetery with a black wrought-iron fence. Four old gravestones stood in a row; their inscriptions faded with time. Despite the place's eerie feeling, Sandra's curiosity was piqued as she approached the gate.

As Sandra lifted the latch, the gate creaked, and she felt a sudden chill run down her spine.
She felt as if someone was watching her. She turned around, her heart racing, but no one was there to be seen.

"Don't be silly, Sandra. It's just another old cemetery, and it seems very well-kept," she told herself, trying to calm her nerves.

She pushed aside her unease, opened the gate, and entered the graveyard. She gasped as she read the first name on the headstone — William Parker — Honorable Judge. Her eyes darted to the second gravestone — Ryan Hamilton — Detective. She edged closer to the third headstone — Benny Gonzales — The Hitman.

Sandra trembled as she stood in front of the fourth unmarked gravestone. She gulped, swallowing the bile building in her throat. Her eyes shifted from gravestone to gravestone, trying to make sense of it all. She felt dizzy as her thoughts swirled around in circles.

How is this possible?

Lorrie's words echoed in her mind again, "Don't stray too far." Sandra knew something wasn't right. Something told her to run, go home, and forget about the mansion, but the reporter in her wouldn't let go.

Who were the men she'd met a few days ago if the real ones were dead and buried here? And who is buried in the fourth grave? And what do James and Lorrie know about all this?

A faint rustling noise came from behind her as she stood there, breaking the silence. She spun around to see what the source of the sound was. Her heart was racing with anxiety, and her eyes struggled to adjust to the bright sunlight that was shining on her face. Amidst the glare, she glimpsed a figure moving among the trees, and her fear turned into a wave of panic. She realized she was not alone in the forest. Without a second thought, she turned and ran, the sound of footsteps echoing behind her and her mind racing with thoughts of who or what was there.

As she sprinted through the trees, branches scraped her arms and legs. Her mind raced with fear. Who was following her? What did they want?

As she ran out of the trees and across the meadow, she prayed she could reach the safety of the carriage house. Maybe James would be there.

Her hands trembled with adrenaline as she reached the cottage. She flung the door open and rushed inside, locking it behind her. She collapsed against the wall, trying to catch her breath, her heart pounding in her ears.

"You're safe, Sandra." A tall, imposing man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes stood near the fireplace.

Sandra's eyes widened, and she screamed, "Who are you?"

The man turned to her and spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "I mean you know harm, Sandra. Be careful in your journey at the mansion. Danger lurks in every corner. And not all is as it seems."

Sandra stammered, "How — do you — know me? And what danger?" Chills raced up and down her body as she stared at the stranger.

His words stunned her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important about this man, something familiar.

Before she could question him further, she heard Lorrie calling her name. She stood, looked out the window, and then turned back to face the stranger. Her eyes darted around the room, but he was gone.

Sandra unlocked the door and stumbled outside, collapsing into Lorrie's arms. The last thing she heard was the housekeeper saying, "Oh dear, you've strayed too far, I think."

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
The Familiar Stranger


Chapter 9
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 9

By Begin Again

ENDING OF CHAPTER 8

Her hands trembled with adrenaline as she reached the cottage. She flung the door open and rushed inside, locking it behind her. She collapsed against the wall, trying to catch her breath, her heart pounding in her ears.

"You're safe, Sandra." A tall, imposing man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes stood near the fireplace.

Sandra's eyes widened, and she screamed, "Who are you?"

The man turned to her and spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "I mean, you know harm, Sandra. Be careful in your journey at the mansion. Danger lurks in every corner. And not all is as it seems."

Sandra stammered, "How — do you — know me? And what danger?" Chills raced up and down her body as she stared at the stranger.

His words stunned her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important about this man, something familiar.

Before she could question him further, she heard Lorrie calling her name. She stood, looked out the window, and turned back to face the stranger. Her eyes darted around the room, but he was gone.

Sandra unlocked the door and stumbled outside, collapsing into Lorrie's arms. The last thing she heard was the housekeeper saying, "Oh dear, you've strayed too far, I think."
*****

CHAPTER 9

With the help of James, Lorrie settled Sandra into her bed, tucking the comforter around her before taking James aside.

"Should we call a doctor? The girl had quite a fright, I fear."

"Are you sure that it was him? Or maybe it was one of the other guys?"

"It had to be him. Her face was drained of color. And if it were the Judge, Ryan, or Benny, they would have stayed because she'd seen them before. I am sure she found the cemetery, James. Her mind must be reeling."

"If Madeline hadn't shown up, we could have answered her questions, or at least some of them by now. That woman is nothing but trouble."

"Oh, I forgot! Earlier, Sandra said she thought Madeline had found the book." Lorrie lowered her voice. "We can't leave her alone. Her life might be in danger now."

"By Madeline, or are you suggesting he would harm her?" James walked to the window and stared outside. "He has a lot to answer for, but I don't think he would harm her. I guess Ryan could answer that better than any of us."

"Where are those three, anyhow? Usually, they are underfoot all the time."

"I suggested they stay away while Madeline is here. Being in the mansion, she could see them unless they spotted her first. Better to be safe than sorry."

"I suppose you are right. That woman needs to go. She's not welcome here as far as I'm concerned." Lorrie sighed.

"I understand, Lorrie. But you need to tread lightly until we discover how she murdered Noah."

"Do you think she did it herself?" Lorrie gasped. "But then, I wouldn't put anything past that woman."

"Let's worry about Sandra for the moment, okay? We need her to be on board and able to help us if this is going to happen. If anything goes wrong, our friends may be doomed. Especially since this is Benny's last chance."

"I know he jokes about it, but I just think it's his way of coping. Whenever he thinks about Noah, he wants to do away with Madeline himself."

"That simply can't happen. We went into this together, and we'll finish it together." James frowned. "Now, I suppose you should go and check on our houseguest. Is there a possibility that she is ill?"

Lorrie scoffed, "Not on your life. She's roaming the halls and snooping around. She's not sick."

"Then maybe I should ask the Judge to have a few of her old friends make a call," he chuckled. "It could prove very interesting."

Lorrie giggled. "Wonder if she believes in ghosts?" Still giggling, the housekeeper checked Sandra and then hurried from the room.

*****

Sandra tossed and turned beneath the comforter, her dreams turning to nightmares, swirling with terrifying images of the stranger who had confronted her in the carriage house. His face, so eerily similar to an old photograph of her long-lost father, haunted her.

She cried in her fretful sleep, "Father, where are you? Why did you leave us?"

James held her hand and tried to soothe her. He paced the floor when she calmed, wondering if they'd pushed her too far.

As she drifted deeper into the realm of dreams, she saw herself wandering through the dark corridors. The mansion seemed alive with secrets, with shadows moving in the corners of her vision. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was watching her every move.

As she continued to navigate the mansion in her dream, she could feel a chill creeping up her spine. The walls seemed to close in around her, the paintings of past residents staring at her with accusing eyes. The creak of the floorboards beneath her feet echoed through the halls as if the house's very foundation were alive with evil energy.

As she reached the grand staircase, Sandra hesitated. The stairs appeared to stretch endlessly into the darkness below, with only the faint glow of moonlight illuminating the way. Taking a deep breath, she descended into the unknown depths.

With each step, the feeling of being watched intensified. Shadows seemed to dance along the walls, whispering unintelligible words in her ear. Sandra quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest. The air grew colder, the atmosphere thick with an oppressive dread.

A ghostly figure emerged from the shadows, shrouded in darkness, with piercing eyes that seemed to bore into her soul. She felt an icy chill run down her spine as the figure advanced towards her, his whispers growing louder and more menacing by the moment. Sandra's mind raced as she tried to understand what was happening, but all she could do was stand there, paralyzed with fear.

Out of nowhere, a mysterious woman emerged in a striking dress with a plunging neckline, black silk nylons, and long slits up the sides. She glared at the figure with disdain. With a commanding voice, she snapped, "Leave her be!" The shadowy figure lurking nearby vanished.
 
 
The woman gazed at Sandra, studying her from head to toe. Her voice was soft and sweet as she spoke. "Sweetheart, you can't be here. The madam would never approve."
 
Another stunning woman draped in a sheer peignoir appeared, her eyes filled with sadness and her voice rougher than the first woman's. "Something tells me she's looking for something else. The key, perhaps?"
 
"Stop! It's not safe for her to be here. She needs to go back."
 
Sandra wanted to protest, but the first woman opened an armoire and found a small silver bell. As she rang it, the sound was magical, and within seconds, a well-to-do man appeared and took Sandra's hand.
 
"Come with me, dear. Your dreams can't take you here. Those awaiting the darkness dwell behind these walls, still foolishly counting their gold pieces. They would steal your soul if they could," he said, leading her away from the women.
 
The man led Sandra through a maze of dimly lit corridors, the air thick with the scent of opulence and deceit. As they walked, the man whispered warnings about the dangers lurking in the shadows, about the power-hungry souls trapped within the mansion's walls.
 
Sandra's heart raced with fear as she followed the mysterious man into the opulent den of darkness. In the distance, she could hear the faint echoes of sinister laughter and the clinking of gold, sending a shiver down her spine.
 
Suddenly, they reached a grand ballroom adorned with crystal chandeliers and velvet curtains. Masked figures filled the room, dancing in a macabre frenzy, their faces twisted with greed and madness.
 
The man turned to Sandra, his eyes glowing with a mix of compassion and caution. "You must find the key, the key, to unlock the truth and escape this cursed place," he said cryptically before disappearing into the shadows.

Without explanation, the ballroom was gone, and she stood in the meadow, the moon casting an eerie glow on the four looming graves. The man who resembled her father was standing in the dark shadows, surrounded by the judge, the detective, and the hitman. They spoke in hushed tones, whispering secrets that Sandra couldn't quite make out.

Her heart raced, and a chill crept up her spine. The surrounding air seemed to thicken, suffocating her in a veil of fear. She couldn't help but feel as if something ominous was about to happen. She felt her throat tighten.

The man turned to her, his eyes burning with intensity. "You must right the wrongs, Sandra. The book holds many secrets. A treasure lies within the walls and needs to be returned to the rightful owners. These men need your help." He gently touched her cheek, and then they vanished.

*****
 
Sandra woke up drenched in a cold sweat, her heart pounding. She cried out in desperation, "Don't leave me. Please don't go." Her eyes darted frantically around the room, and then she scrambled from the bed, crawling on the floor, searching beneath it.
 
James knelt beside her and pulled her trembling body close to him. "Sandra, calm yourself. You had a nightmare. Everything's going to be okay."
 
Sandra's eyes met his, and she shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, it's not. The stranger said I needed to help them, but how can I if the book is gone?" She sobbed violently, her body wracked with fear.
 
James wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the floor and placing her back into bed. He held her close, comforting her as she slowly calmed down. But even as she lay there, with her head on his chest, she couldn't shake the feeling that her dream was only the beginning of a nightmare yet to come.

*****

Lorrie tapped on Sandra's door and opened it, motioning for James to join her in the hallway.

"Sandra, Lorrie needs me, but I'll be just outside your door. Will you be okay?"

She nodded and pulled the comforter tighter around her, whimpering, "Are you coming back?"

"Yes, I promise. You can call my name if you need me sooner."

James patted her arm and stepped into the hallway, where Lorrie waited impatiently.

*****
Lorrie approached James with a look of urgency and quickly reached into her apron pocket. She retrieved a small prescription bottle and held it out to James. "We've got proof. She killed Noah."
 
James took the bottle from Lorrie's hand and scrutinized it. He read the label aloud, "Digoxin. Where did you find this?"
 
Lorrie replied, "I found it in the drawer when Madeline asked me to look for new bedding. It was hidden among a stack of blankets."
 
James looked puzzled. "Why do you think this medication killed Noah? Isn't it a heart medicine?"
 
Lorrie nodded, "Yes, it is used to treat heart conditions, but neither has heart problems. Why else would she have it?"
 
James shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know why she would have it, but how could a heart medication be lethal to Noah?"
 
"It causes irregular heartbeats, and if she'd added it to his coffee or nightly whiskey, it could have killed him."
 
"Hmm! That's a strong possibility," James said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Would it have shown up in an autopsy?"
 
"According to Sarah, she works with Doc Travis at the morgue. One would have to know what they were looking for, but with the right test, it would."
 
"Good job, Lorrie! If we get an autopsy, we could catch her. But for now, we need to discover where the book is and calm Sandra down. Also, Ryan needs to talk with his friend and discover why he approached Sandra and his intentions. This has gotten so out of hand." James sighed heavily, lost in his thoughts.
 
"Can you reach the guys? You said you sent them away so Madeline wouldn't see them."
 

"Well, they can't go far, now can they?"
 
"I suppose not, but I worry about Benny taking chances."
 
"The Judge will keep a close eye on him. Speaking of the Judge, I need him to arrange a visit for Madeline. It's time she sees who she's messing with."
 
Lorrie let out a playful giggle. "Oh, that sounds like fun. Can I watch?"
 
James shook his head. "No, you have more important things to do, like caring for Sandra and keeping her safe."
 
Lorrie huffed. "I suppose you're right. I'll have to leave it to my imagination."
 
James couldn't help but smile. "Your imagination! Oh, dear, I am sure you'll outdo the actual visit."
 

Lorrie erupted into giggles, and her entire body shook with joy. "Maybe I should become a ghostwriter," she said between gasps of laughter. "A ghostwriter, get it?"
 
James rolled his eyes and groaned. "I'll find the guys, and you stay with Sandra." He turned his back to Lorrie and walked toward the stairs, unable to hide his amusement.

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
The Familiar Stranger


Chapter 10
The Unwilling heir - Chap 10

By Begin Again

END OF CHAPTER 9

"The Judge will keep a close eye on him. Speaking of the Judge, I need him to arrange a visit for Madeline. It's time she sees who she's messing with."
Lorrie let out a playful giggle. "Oh, that sounds like fun. Can I watch?"
James shook his head. "No, you have more important things to do, like caring for Sandra and keeping her safe."
Lorrie huffed. "I suppose you're right. I'll have to leave it to my imagination."
James couldn't help but smile. "Your imagination! Oh, dear, I am sure you'll outdo the actual visit."
Lorrie erupted into giggles, and her entire body shook with joy. "Maybe I should become a ghostwriter," she said between gasps of laughter. "A ghostwriter, get it?"
James rolled his eyes and groaned. "I'll find the guys, and you stay with Sandra." He turned his back to Lorrie and walked toward the stairs, unable to hide his amusement.
 
*****
CHAPTER 10
 

Madeline sat on the majestic four-poster bed with the covers pulled up around her. The room was dimly lit, with a single lamp on the bedside table casting a warm glow. She was reading intently from the book she had stolen from Sandra's room, "The Secret Life of Judge Parker." The book was old, with yellow pages and a musty smell. As she turned the pages, she felt a sense of excitement and intrigue building inside her.  

 

As she read the book's pages, her imagination ran wild. She pictured Judge Parker, a wealthy and judicial man, hiding his connection with the underworld and his ill-gotten gains. The book portrayed Judge Parker's lavish lifestyle in great detail. Madeline imagined the opulent parties and extravagant dinners held at his mansion. She found numerous mentions of a mansion and passionately believed that this mansion concealed those very treasures. She was certain that was what James had written about, too. 

 

Suddenly, there was a tap at her door, which startled her. She quickly hid the book under the covers and nestled into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. 

 

Her voice sounded weak as she answered, "Come in."

 

Lorrie pushed the door open and entered, carrying a tray of food. "I brought you some sandwiches, fruit, and some cakes. I figured you wouldn't be joining us for dinner."

  

Madeline moaned and shook her head. "I can't imagine what's come over me."

  

Lorrie tried to look concerned and warned, "I've heard there's going to be a storm. You should try to get some rest."

 

Madeline rolled her eyes, confident Lorrie did not know what she was talking about. "It's been sunny outside all day. Not a cloud in the sky. I don't think it will storm."

 

Lorrie buried her chuckle and answered, "Mark my word, there'll be a big one tonight. It might stir up some spirits." She quickly added, "Sorry, that's an old joke. Nothing to worry about."

 

Madeline was not amused by Lorrie's babbling, "What nonsense! There's no such thing as ghosts. And if there were, I am sure you'd find them in the cemetery, not here."

 

 "You don't believe in them?" Lorrie moved closer to the bed, her eyes widening. She lowered her voice, "I once heard that this entire home was haunted." She leaned toward Madeline, asking, "I wonder what that would be like?"

 

Lorrie's presence was becoming annoying. She wanted to return to studying the book. She growled, her tone surly, "Go away with you, woman. Your foolishness gives me a headache." She raised her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. 

 

Amused, Lorrie hid her smile as she headed to the door. "Will you be needing anything else?"

 

"No, I'll be fine. I've found some reading material to entertain me if I get bored."

 

"Reading material?" Lorrie shuffled a few steps. "Anything interesting?"

Madeline stiffened, wondering if Lorrie knew about the book and Judge Parker since Noah had shared everything with the housekeeper instead of her. "Lorraine, did my poor deceased husband ever mention a judge — oh, what was his last name? Perkins? Patterson? Parker, that was it, Judge Parker."

  

"Judge Parker? I don't recall, but why do you ask? Is it something important?" Lorrie slyly asked. 

  

"No, no, of course not. It was just a name that came to me—" she coughed, fearing she'd piqued the housekeeper's curiosity. "I think it was in some papers Noah gave me to read. The Judge might have signed them or something. It's nothing to worry about," Madeline sighed. "I need to rest."

  

The housekeeper moved to the door, barely able to contain her thoughts. "Yes, get some rest." She opened the door, stepped into the hallway, and pulled it closed behind her. She chuckled and leaned against it, muttering, "Because you'll need it."

 

***** 

As James and Judge Parker stood at the end of the dimly lit hallway, Lorrie hurried towards them, her stout body shaking with excitement.  

  

"I am sure that the woman has the book," said Lorrie breathlessly, looking at the Judge. "She's been asking questions about you."

  

The Judge's face remained calm and composed. "I think you mean my grandfather, but it doesn't matter. Tonight, I will be the one visiting her, among others."

  

Lorrie's wide eyes shone with anticipation. "You'll scare the daylights out of her, won't you? She says she doesn't believe in ghosts, you know."

  

"We'll see how she feels about that in the morning," the Judge replied with amusement. For now, I need to check if Benny and Ryan have connected with anyone who can help us with the storm."

  

Lorrie gasped, "That sounds like a witch's brew."

  

The Judge chuckled. "I'm sure a few witches are among the crowd."

 

Having listened to Lorrie and the Judge, James interjected, "We need to check on Sandra as well. It wouldn't bode well if she heard anything tonight."

 

Lorrie patted James's arm. "Not to worry. She'll sleep like a baby with a cup of my grandmother's secret tea. The girl won't be disturbed — especially by Madeline's screams." Chuckling, Lorrie turned and hurried down the stairs to her kitchen. 

 

***** 

 

Madeline had always been a night owl, finding solace in the tranquility of the late hours when the world around her seemed to slip into a quiet slumber. The soft glow of the moonlight cascaded into her room, casting shadows on the walls and floor. The wind whistled around the windows as she lay in her bed, causing the drapes to sway back and forth.  

  

Suddenly, the outside lit up with a thunderous boom as a lightning bolt cracked across the sky, illuminating the room in a blinding flash. The sound was deafening, reverberating through her bones, making her heart pound against her chest. Startled, she climbed out of bed and hurried to close the drapes, shutting out the storm.  

   

Another crack of thunder boomed, and a tree branch slapped against the window, making Madeline jump and scream. She ran back to her bed, climbing in and pulling the comforter around her tightly. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease.  

  

She scolded herself, "How silly! Are you letting that babbling old lady get to you?" Then, she added, "Instead, you should think about the book and what treasures the Judge left for you to discover."  

  

Her hands fumbled beneath the covers, recovering the coveted book, and slipped it under her pillow. Satisfied it was safe, she burrowed deeper beneath the thick comforter, hoping to drown out the relentless noise from outside and find sleep. 

 

Her imagination ran wild as she listened to the gnarled tree branches scraping against the windowpanes like long claws trying to scratch their way inside. The raindrops pelted the roof with a continuous thud, sounding like soldiers marching in unison. The wind howled like a thousand tortured souls wailing in the night. Despite the eerie sounds, Madeline closed her eyes and tried to find sleep.   

  

Unbeknownst to her, a shadowy figure sat in a chair across the room, watching her intently. He waited for Madeline to drift off to sleep before making his move.  

  

As exhaustion finally overtook her, Madeline slipped into a restless sleep, haunted by a mysterious figure.  

  

Silent as a whisper, he approached her bedside, his ethereal form barely visible in the dim light. He dropped his satin robe at the bedside and slipped beneath the covers. His icy fingers touched Madeline's cheek, and his breath caressed her. She stirred slightly but remained in a deep slumber.   

  

The man grinned wickedly, relishing the fear he was about to instill in his unsuspecting victim. His lips brushed against her hair, her neck, and down across her throat. He moved his ghostly hands over her body, commanding her unwilling body to surrender to his touch. She moaned as he continued to caress her body.   

  

Suddenly, he stopped and gazed at her writhing body. Her lips moved as she begged, "Don't stop. Please, don't stop." 

 

Leaning close, he whispered, "But I must! Though it pleasures me." His voice changed as he hissed, "You have been judged guilty, Madeline, of crimes you cannot escape. I am here to deliver your punishment." His laughter was piercing. 

  

Madeline's eyes snapped open in horror as she saw the ghostly figure looming over her. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her lips. She quickly realized the room had changed, and she no longer was in the mansion. 

 

It was a familiar place - a dimly lit room where she used to work as a prostitute. It had been years since she left that life behind, but the memories would haunt her tonight.  

 

Madeline leaped from the bed, running towards the door. But the figure was faster, appearing in front of her in a swirl of dark mist. His eyes glowed with malice as he reached out to grab her, intent on dragging her into the depths of hell. 

 

The figure laughed malevolently, his breath cold against her skin. "What's the rush? You used to enjoy bringing men to their climax, begging for more. Isn't that how you trapped me?"

 

Horror engulfed her as she recognized the face of her dead husband in front of her. "Noah, please," Madeline begged, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness. "You said you loved me."

 

But Noah only laughed a cruel sound that echoed through the room like a ghostly cry. "You can't escape me, Madeline. I know your secrets, your sins."

Her legs were wobbly with fear, and her body went cold with dread as Noah's words hung in the air like a death sentence. She tried to run, but her feet felt heavy as lead, rooted to the spot as if by some unseen force. She felt panic clawing at her chest as she realized the demons of her past would force her to confront them. 

As Noah drew closer, his face contorted in a wicked grin. "You thought you could leave that life behind, but you were wrong. You stole my life." His hand, cold and clammy, stroked her breast. "And now you belong to me to do as I wish."

  

Madeline's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.   

  

To her surprise, the barrier between them shattered like glass, and she stumbled forward, away from Noah's menacing gaze. His laughter echoed behind her.  

  

She found herself outside in the storm. Frantic, she ran as fast as she could. But no matter how far she ran, she could feel Noah's eyes on her, his presence looming like a shadow at her back.  

  

As she rounded a corner, Madeline stumbled upon an old, abandoned building. Without thinking, she pushed open the creaking door and staggered inside, seeking shelter from the storm and praying Noah wouldn't find her. The inside of the building was dark and musty, the air heavy with the scent of decay.  

  

His haunting laughter told her she was not alone.   

  

Shrouded in darkness, a figure stood in the corner, watching her with cold, unseeing eyes. As the figure stepped into the dim light, Madeline felt her blood run cold. She cringed under his gaze, whimpering, "Noah."

  

He advanced toward her, his steps slow and deliberate as if savoring the fear that gripped her heart. Madeline's mind whirled with terror as she tried to understand what was happening. "Please, don't do this. You said you loved me." 

  

Noah whispered, his voice a chilling echo in the empty room. "You said the same, my dear." He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her neck. "Relax. The night is just beginning."

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
The Familiar Stranger


Chapter 11
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 11

By Begin Again

ENDING OF CHAPTER 10

As she rounded a corner, Madeline stumbled upon an old, abandoned building. Without thinking, she pushed open the creaking door and staggered inside, seeking shelter from the storm and praying Noah wouldn't find her. The inside of the building was dark and musty, the air heavy with the scent of decay.

His haunting laughter told her she was not alone.

Shrouded in darkness, a figure stood in the corner, watching her with cold, unseeing eyes. As the figure stepped into the dim light, Madeline felt her blood run cold. She cringed under his gaze, whimpering, "Noah."

He advanced toward her, his steps slow and deliberate as if savoring the fear that gripped her heart. Madeline's mind whirled with terror as she tried to understand what was happening. "Please, don't do this. You said you loved me."

Noah whispered, his voice a chilling echo in the empty room. "You said the same, my dear." He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her neck. "Relax. The night is just beginning."
*****
CHAPTER 11

Gasping for breath, Madeline woke abruptly from her deep sleep and sat in bed. An icy chill covered her body, making her teeth chatter as she reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on. The dim light illuminated the room, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The clock on the nightstand said eleven-thirty.

She looked around the room with her wide eyes, trying to make sense of the sudden jolt that had startled her. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her mind was foggy. She questioned herself, wondering if she'd had another nightmare.

As she tried to shake off the fog, a vision of Noah crept into her thoughts. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered his touch, his teasing, and the moments when she begged him not to stop. But then —

Suddenly, she felt a cold sensation enveloping her body, like icy tendrils wrapping around her. She let out a blood-curdling scream as she fell back onto the bed, pulling the covers over her head. The room was silent, except for her ragged breathing.

After a moment, she pushed the covers away from her face and peered out into the room. Her eyes nervously scanned the area, searching for any unusual movement.

"It was just a nightmare," she muttered shakily, trying to calm herself down. "Noah is dead. He wasn't here." However, her heart fluttered wildly, and her eyes darted around the room. She said, "There's no such thing as ghosts."

A gust of cold, damp air swept through the room without any explanation, and a sudden shudder coursed through her trembling body.

"Thump." Madeline ducked under the covers again, listening as the wind howled and something continued to thump against the outside of the house. The howling got louder and louder until the windows blew open. The curtains billowed, and shadows danced across the walls.

Lifting the covers to see what was happening, a sudden movement caught her eye. She gasped as a book fell from the table, breaking the spooky hush with a loud thud. Her heart raced as she quickly got out of bed and ran towards the window. With trembling hands, she slammed them closed.

Something brushed against her hair, and she spun around, but no one was there. An uneasy feeling churned in her stomach, and her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to control her fear. She stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, "Is — there some — one here?"

The room was deathly quiet, and the wind had stopped blowing. The clock ticked off each second as Madeline stood there, shivering, unable to move her feet.

A deep voice shattered the silence, "Do you feel a draft?"

The room erupted in laughter, a sound that made Madeline's blood run cold as she realized she was not alone. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. She felt like things were whirling around her, touching her. She swatted at the empty space.

Her heart beat faster and faster, echoing in her ears, as she scanned the dimly lit room. The shadows on the walls seemed to move, and the hair on the back of her neck bristled against her skin. She stammered, her voice barely audible, "Who's here? Show yourself."

The room seemed to swallow up her words, leaving a spooky hush punctuated only by her heavy breathing. She could feel her mind racing as she fought to keep her fear at bay.

Her thoughts screamed, "Run, Madeline. Get out of here."

She bolted towards the door, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands shook with fear as she fumbled for the handle, the cold metal slipping from her grasp before she got a firm grip. The heavy wooden door creaked open, and she ran down the dimly lit hallway, her breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed against the walls.

The footsteps behind her grew louder and closer, each passing second making her heart beat even more erratic. A single thought consumed her mind: escape. She imagined his hot breath on the back of her neck, and fear overwhelmed her.

In mid-stride, she abruptly stopped running, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. A figure stood at the top of the staircase, waiting for her. She recognized the face, and her heart skipped a beat as it turned to ice.

"Noah? It can't be. You're dead and buried," she gasped, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief.

He reached for her, a twisted smile on his face. "You can't run from me, Madeline," he taunted. His icy fingers grasped her wrist, and she crumbled to the floor, her mind reeling with horror.

*****

Loud, sinister laughter awakened Madeline from her deep slumber. Her eyes flew to the clock on the nightstand. The hands were straight up — precisely midnight. She could hear voices getting louder and louder.

"Drink up! The night is just beginning," a male voice shouted, followed by another voice slurred with alcohol, saying, "Let the trial begin!"

"What's your hurry, Frank? You know she's guilty, and she's going to be dead for a very long time," another voice chimed in, dripping with malice. "We've got forever."

"Yeah, she killed our friend, didn't she?" said a third voice, filled with contempt. "It's time for her to pay."

"Let's not forget, she stole the Judge's property. No one steals from the Judge and lives." A round of high-pitched laughter filled the room. "Especially when they think they can steal the treasure."

Shivering, Madeline leaned forward, peering at nothing but darkness. Still, she declared loudly, "You can stop your nonsense because I don't believe in ghosts."

A roar of raucous laughter bounced from every corner of the room. "She doesn't believe in ghosts."

A yellow glow filled the room, illuminating a room full of people dressed in various stages of clothing. The women wore delicate lingerie, and the men sported everything from immaculate suits to casual jeans.

In her usual snobby way, Madeline approached the situation with haughty anger. "The jokes are over! Does this look like a bordello?" She scowled, "Take your celebration and get out! I'm going to sleep."

Kitty, the group's ringleader, strolled to the bed with a coy smile. "Well, well, well, it looks like our Sleeping Beauty has awakened," she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's not a celebration, deary. It's your trial. And there will be no more sleeping for you."

Madeline's bravado dissipated as she recognized the woman standing before her. "Kitty?" she gasped in disbelief.

She moved to get out of bed, but Kitty grabbed her arm with a vice-like grip. "Oh no, you don't. You're not going anywhere until you pay your dues," she said with a wicked smile.

Madeline struggled against her, trying to break free, but Kitty's hold was too strong.

"Let go of me," Madeline cried. She rubbed her eyes and stared at the vision in front of her. "This is a dream, and I want it to stop. You died, and so did Maggie."

A woman suddenly appeared next to Kitty. "Did someone mention my name?" She giggled at Kitty and then turned to face Madeline, sneering, "Yes, I died, but you never shed a tear. You thought you were better than us, stealing Noah from the Madam. All you wanted was his money, not his love. Though I did hear that you were begging for it earlier tonight." Kitty and Maggie snickered, sharing knowing glances.

An evil gleam appeared in Maggie's eye. "I don't care how she treated me, but we have time on our hands while we wait for the Judge. Maybe we should pay her back for taunting Teresa when she lost her hair from cancer."

"Great idea!" A scissor magically appeared in Kitty's hand. She leaned toward Madeline, muttering, "Chop, Chop!"

Maggie grasped a clump of Madeline's hair in her hand, laughing. "Cut it good and short. Or better yet, we could shave it."

Madeline tried pulling away as she screamed, "No, stop it!" She jumped back on the bed, shivering in fear. Her hands covered her long locks of hair.

"Do it! Do it!" rose from the group of men as they stomped their shoes against the wood floors.

Madeline struggled to escape but was no match for the two women. "Hold her in front of the mirror so she can see those perfect locks fall to the floor, piece by piece."

A male voice yelled across the room. "Make her cut it herself. She'll whine like a baby, and we can laugh at her like she laughed at Teresa."

Tears streamed down Madeline's face. "No, you can't. I never meant to hurt her, but she looked weird with no hair."

"And so will you." Maggie held the scissors out, but Madeline refused to take them.

Kitty held her, and Maggie began to cut chunks of hair, letting it fall to the floor while laughter filled the room. Madeline cried in fear and agony. "Please, don't do this. I'm begging you."

Suddenly, the laughter faded, and a stillness filled the room. A man stood in the center of the room, a gavel in his hand. "Enough! This is a trial, not a child's playground."

His gavel echoed in the room as the Judge called out the accused's name. "Madeline Wakefield, you have many crimes to pay for, but tonight, you stand trial for the death of Noah Wakefield and the theft of Judge Parker's book. What say you?"

Madeline cried, "No, it wasn't me. There are others in this house — maybe the housekeeper or that woman who says she is a reporter. You must believe me. I didn't do it. I'm the grieving widow, and I've been left penniless."

Kitty let out a mocking laugh. "Oh, dear Madeline, always the drama queen. You can try to spin your tales, but we know the truth. You and your lover are responsible."

"How can you say that?" Madeline's voice trembled as she addressed the ghostly figure before her. "I'm not guilty."

Kitty's voice was bitter and menacing as she spoke up again. "We're here to remind you, Madeline. You may have turned your back on us, but your past sins will always haunt you."

Maggie's laughter echoed through the room, cruel and mocking, as she spoke with a sharpness that cut through the air. "You can't escape the truth, Madeline. You can't run from what you've done. We know!"

Madeline's body froze with fear, and she felt a cold sweat on her skin. The shadows seemed to close around her, suffocating her with their accusing silence. She struggled to find her voice as she protested, her words barely louder than a whisper. "I — I didn't kill anyone. I was just a witness." She swallowed hard, and then her words tumbled from her mouth. "The sheriff, he was the one who put the medicine in Noah's whiskey."

The room fell silent as Madeline made her confession. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Kitty and Maggie's figures seemed to fade in the darkness, their accusing eyes disappearing like shadows in the night.

Tears streamed down Madeline's face as she realized she had to tell the truth if she was going to survive the night.

"I didn't do it. It was the sheriff. He said if I didn't do what he wanted, he would arrest me and say I killed Noah," she stammered, her voice trembling with fear. "He hid the pills in my drawer."

The Judge looked at her intensely and asked, "Why was the sheriff in your bedroom? Were you two lovers? Did you plan this together, hoping to gain the mansion and the treasures hidden within its walls?"

"After reading some of Noah's papers, I discovered the mansion's secret. The sheriff and I became friendly, and he convinced me I needed his help to find the treasure. I didn't realize his intentions until I was in too deep." Madeline wailed, "I wanted the treasure, but I meant no harm to Noah." She rushed toward the bed and frantically searched for the book that had caused all the trouble. Finally, she found it under the covers and handed it to the Judge. "Here, take the book back. I'll leave town and never return. I'll do whatever you ask, but please, end this torment," she pleaded, hoping that the Judge would believe her and put an end to the nightmare.

Before he could answer, a sharp knock on the door interrupted the chaos. The sound reverberated through the space, causing a momentary hush to fall over the group. Madeline's heart leaped with hope of a rescue from this nightmare, and she cried out, "Help! Someone, please help me!"

"Silence," the Judge snapped. She cringed under his cold stare and closed her mouth.

The door creaked open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway. Madeline shivered as she recognized the silhouette of the sheriff. But this was not the regular sheriff as she had known him. His eyes glowed with a sinister light, and his face was devoid of emotion except a twisted, evil grin. Madeline shrank away from the figure, overcome with terror.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here," the sheriff drawled, his voice dripping with venom. "Seems like we have a little party going on in Madeline's bedroom. And I wasn't invited."

"It's not —" One look at the Judge and Madeline moved away toward her bed.

The Judge grinned at the sheriff. "You are mistaken. Tonight, you are the guest of honor, and I have the privilege of delivering your reward." The Judge moved closer to the man, smiling, but his eyes said something entirely different. "You have been cast out of purgatory, and your eternal abode shall be in hell."

The sheriff gasped at the Judge's words. "No, let me explain," the accused pleaded. "It's all her fault. She did this."

Without uttering a word, the Judge placed his hand on the sheriff's shoulder. Flames seared his shirt. The man screamed and fell to his knees, writhing in pain.

"You knew the rules, and you broke them. One chance, no more." He shook his head.

"But she —" the accused tried to protest.

The Judge shrugged his shoulders. "I have no jurisdiction over mortals, but you —" With a simple nod, a bevy of spiritual bodies surrounded the sheriff, ripping at his body and howling like the wind. Hundreds of bats appeared from nowhere, biting and clawing at the doomed man.

A black cloak of darkness surrounded him as he pleaded, "No, give me a chance." His words gurgled in his throat until he couldn't breathe anymore. His body jerked and then ceased to move.

The Judge turned his back on the lifeless body, murmuring, "You've had your last chance. May you burn in hell."

The body was yanked through the wall, disappearing into the dark, and a deathly bone-chilling scream rattled the room.

Madeline shrank against the wall, fearing what would come next.

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways


Chapter 12
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 12

By Begin Again

THE END OF CHAPTER 11

Without uttering a word, the Judge placed his hand on the sheriff's shoulder. Flames seared his shirt. The man screamed and fell to his knees, writhing in pain.

"You knew the rules, and you broke them. One chance, no more." He shook his head.

"But she —" the accused tried to protest.

The Judge shrugged his shoulders. "I have no jurisdiction over mortals, but you —" With a simple nod, a bevy of spiritual bodies surrounded the sheriff, ripping at his body and howling like the wind. Hundreds of bats appeared from nowhere, biting and clawing at the doomed man.

A black cloak of darkness surrounded him as he pleaded, "No, give me a chance." His words gurgled in his throat until he couldn't breathe anymore. His body jerked and then ceased to move.

The Judge turned his back on the lifeless body, murmuring, "You've had your last chance. May you burn in hell."

The body was yanked through the wall, disappearing into the dark, and a deathly bone-chilling scream rattled the room.

Madeline shrank against the wall, fearing what would come next.



CHAPTER 12

Sandra woke up in a surprisingly good mood, the sun shining through her window and birds chirping outside. She stretched her limbs and smiled as she got out of bed, feeling energized and ready to start the day. She slipped on her slippers and headed to the bathroom, but something caught her eye.

She gasped in disbelief. "It can't be." Her heart skipped a beat as she hurried to the foot of her bed. But it was — the book. She glanced around the room, but nothing else except Judge Parker's book was different.

Could Madeline have returned it? She couldn't think of anyone else who would have.

She quickly scrambled into bed, sitting cross-legged, the book cradled in her lap. She slowly opened the cover, and as she did, the pages turned on their own with a gentle rustling sound. Her eyes widened in surprise as she watched the pages turn by themselves.

Suddenly, the room darkened, and a cold gust of wind swept through it, making the curtains flutter. Goosebumps prickled Sandra's skin, and she suddenly felt uneasy. Her heart raced as she felt like someone was watching her.

"Who's there?" Sandra's voice trembled as she clutched her pillow, her eyes scanning the darkened room. "Speak up!"

As she looked towards the closet door, it slowly creaked open, revealing a wispy, pale figure. Sandra's pulse quickened as she saw the ghostly form move closer. "The book holds many answers, Sandra," the eerie voice said.

Sandra's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the apparition, her mind struggling to understand what she saw. She stammered, "Who — are — you?"

"Who I am is of little concern for the moment." The light surrounding the figure flickered and then dimmed. "I've little time."

Sandra inhaled sharply; her breath jagged as she spoke. "Are — you —" She swallowed hard, her words caught in her throat. "What —do you —" Her voice trailed off, unable to form the words.

Out of nowhere, a woman appeared, gliding past the wispy figure. She wore a long Victorian gown embroidered with delicate details. The fitted bodice of her dress accentuated her slender form while the sleeves billowed gently. A string of pearls adorned her neck, and her presence carried an air of refinement and melancholy. She seemed like a specter trapped between the worlds of the living and the dead.

"Forgive me, child. One cannot send a boy to do a woman's work," she said gracefully, floating towards the four-poster bed. Lace gloves adorned her slender and delicate hands. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Victoria, the loving mistress of Judge William Parker. I've given my life to save my darling, yet he remains chained to the past. Now, I understand you will be given the task."

Sandra reacted with a sharp, audible inhale. "My task?"

"Of course, child. You have the book; therefore, you will learn its secrets and, more importantly, what must be done."

Sandra wrapped the covers tightly around her as a shiver of unease gripped her. "Secrets? You mean the —" She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to unearth the Judge's dark past and incur Victoria's wrath.

"Calm yourself. I know the book speaks of murder, theft, and slavery, but that was a long time ago. Before he passed away, the Judge wanted to make amends, but he couldn't." Victoria turned her head and drifted away, moving closer to the closet door. "Perhaps James has chosen the wrong person. It's a treacherous path."

"James? The writer?" Sandra asked, intrigued.

Victoria's laughter floated in the air, a spectral sound of forgotten joy. "He's much more than that. James holds the wisdom and the keys to ending the sorrow that haunts these walls and the spirits that roam the graveyard at night."

"The lights? I saw the lights," Sandra said, her journalistic instincts taking over. "Who were they?"

The wispy figure spoke softly, his light glowing brighter as he addressed Victoria. "Our duty is to the book, not the wandering souls."

She nodded in agreement as she returned to Sandra's bedside. "Of course, the boy is right. For now, our concern is the book."

The pages of the leather book fluttered one last time and then came to a halt. A small, flat package was taped to one of the pages.

"Inside, you will find a key. Take it and follow me. I will show you the door it unlocks, but be warned, you enter at your own risk." Victoria's hand stretched out, and she touched the leather book, her fingers caressing it as if she had been lost in the past for a moment.

Returning to the task at hand, she looked at Sandra's pajamas and chuckled softly. "A change of clothing might be more suitable. Hurry, and we'll wait outside."

Sandra hesitated, her mind racing with questions and doubts. What awaited her if she followed Victoria? Was it worth the risk? Should she tell James and Lorrie, or would they stop her from searching?

Sensing her doubts, the ghostly figure whispered, "It's your choice. You do not have to seek out the answers. I am here to ask." Her silhouette began to fade.

Pushing her fears aside, Sandra jumped out of bed. "No, I want to go," she said with determination. She grabbed a shirt and jeans and rushed into the bathroom to change. Her mind swirled in confusion, but the thrill of adventure pulled her forward.

As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Sandra spoke to herself in a wavering voice, "I don't — I didn't believe in ghosts, but how can I explain my visitors?" She sighed. "I don't want to wake up if I'm dreaming." She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "Real or not, prepare yourself, Sandra, for an adventure you can never explain." She smiled, ready for the challenge.

******

Madeline hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairs. She heard hushed voices coming from Sandra's room. The previous night's memories flashed through her mind, but her curiosity overcame her apprehension. She shook her head, trying to dispel her foolish fears.

"This house is getting to you, Madeline. It was just a crazy nightmare and nothing else," she muttered. "I'm leaving, so what's the harm of listening to see what that woman is up to?"

As she approached Sandra's door, the voices stopped. She pressed her ear closer to listen and saw the doorknob turn. Stifling a gasp, she hurried across the hall, slipped inside another bedroom, and peered through a tiny gap in the door.

She watched as Sandra exited her room, clutching the book, and hurried down the dimly lit hallway. She stepped out of her hiding spot, took a few tentative steps towards the stairs, but then hesitated, mulling over the possibilities.

"She's got the book with her. Did she find a clue to the treasure?" Her thoughts flashed to the nightmare and then back to Sandra. "Am I going to let her find it?" Madeline grinned because she knew the answer. "Absolutely not!"

She hurried to the end of the hall and peeked around the corner in time to see Sandra disappear around another corner. She could feel her adrenaline pumping through her veins as she rushed to keep Sandra in sight. In her heightened excitement, she failed to notice the change in temperature as she followed Sandra.

Victoria drifted through the shadowy corridor and descended a long, winding staircase, stopping occasionally to listen and then beckon Sandra to follow. The steps creaked beneath Sandra's feet, and layers of cobwebs brushed against her face. The musty air filled her nostrils as they ventured further into the mansion. Sandra realized no living person had been inside these rooms for a long time. Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement.

Caught up in her thoughts, Sandra hadn't realized she was suddenly alone. "Victoria? Are you still here?" Chills swept over her, leaving her in a cold, clammy sweat. She felt a presence lurking in the shadows, watching her. "Victoria, is that you?" The cold made her teeth chatter as she asked, "Is — someone — there?"

There was no response, only faint murmurings in the distance. As Sandra strained to listen, she heard the staircase creak and footsteps echoing in the hallway, gradually getting closer and closer. It was then that she knew someone was following her. Her mind screamed, "Hide."

Panic set in as she desperately searched for a place where she wouldn't be seen. She pushed open a nearby door with trembling hands and stepped inside. It was a grand ballroom with vaulted ceilings embellished with intricate plaster medallions and beautiful painted artwork. Thick velvet drapes hung over the dusty windows, casting the room in a dim and spooky light. Along the walls, there were matching velvet sofas and small wooden tables. A spiral staircase led to the curved observation balconies on the upper level with tiered crystal chandeliers glittering in the soft light. A baby grand piano played a soft, melancholy tune.

As she stood frozen in place, Sandra sensed more than she saw. Groups of people lurked in the shadows, men in tuxedos and women with fancy updos, elaborate gowns, and massive jewelry. Their eyes glowed with an eerie light, watching her every move as she tentatively stepped further into the room. The murmuring of voices filled the air, but the words were unintelligible, adding to the heavy atmosphere.
 
A cold gust of wind swept through the room, causing her hair to stand on end. The faint light flickered, casting wispy shadows that seemed to dance around her. She felt a presence behind her, and an icy chill crept across her shoulders and up her neck. She slowly turned around, but there was nothing there, only the darkness that seemed to engulf her.

In an attempt to leave, she grabbed the doorknob, but the door she'd entered through would no longer open. The air grew thicker with the stench of decay, causing her to gag as she tried to suppress a rising sense of panic. The low moans grew louder, echoing off the walls and sending chills throughout her trembling body.

A flash of movement caught her eye. A pale and gaunt figure stood in the corner of the room. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light as it slowly turned to face her. Sandra's heart pounded in her chest.

As the figure drew closer, Sandra could see its twisted features, its skeletal hands reaching out to her. It let out a guttural groan, sending Sandra stumbling backward in terror, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out a hand, searching for something to defend herself with, but found only empty air.

She tripped over something on the floor and fell hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She lay there, gasping for breath, as she felt his icy hand wrap around her ankle and drag her toward the darkness. She screamed, the sound reverberating off the walls as she desperately clawed at the floor, trying to break free. But he was relentless, his grip unyielding as it pulled her closer and closer to the shadows.

The room was alive with whispers and moans, a chorus of the damned that sent tremors through her body. Sandra closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare. However, when she opened them again, she found herself trapped in the ballroom, with the ghostly figures closing in on her.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a frantic voice screamed, "Sandra, grab my hand."

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways
Victoria - the ghostly mistress


Chapter 13
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 13

By Begin Again

THE END OF CHAPTER 12

A flash of movement caught her eye. A pale and gaunt figure stood in the corner of the room. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light as it slowly turned to face her. Sandra's heart pounded in her chest.

As the figure drew closer, Sandra could see its twisted features, its skeletal hands reaching out to her. It let out a guttural groan, sending Sandra stumbling backward in terror, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out a hand, searching for something to defend herself with, but found only empty air.

She tripped over something on the floor and fell hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She lay there, gasping for breath, as she felt his icy hand wrap around her ankle and drag her toward the darkness. She screamed, the sound reverberating off the walls as she desperately clawed at the floor, trying to break free. But he was relentless, his grip unyielding as it pulled her closer and closer to the shadows.

The room was alive with whispers and moans, a chorus of the damned that sent tremors through her body. Sandra closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare. However, when she opened them again, she was trapped in the ballroom, with the ghostly figures closing in on her.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a frantic voice screamed, "Sandra, grab my hand."

*****
CHAPTER 13

Lorrie paced the bedroom, her concern for Sandra evident in every furrow of her brow. "For the likes of me, Victoria, I cannot fathom what you thought you were doing. Did you think you were leading the poor girl into a haunted tea party?"

Victoria, her demeanor somber, glided toward the window. "Now, you mind your station, Lorrie, speaking to me in that tone." Her anger flared. A coldness emanated from her wispy figure, and the curtains swayed.

"She wasn't prepared for any of it," Lorrie continued, her apron twisted in knots. "In my time, we'd have been scandalized to the bones if we caused such a ruckus amongst the living."

Victoria turned to face Lorrie, her eyes momentarily resting on Sandra's still form. "It was the stranger that saved her." Her ethereal light flickered as she pressed herself to admit that things might have been much worse without him.

"The same man who was at the carriage house?" Lorrie's mind raced. "He's an old friend of the Judge."

"Impossible!" Victoria's voice softened with a touch of sadness. Her hand instinctively reached for the locket on her neck, symbolizing her lost love, the Judge. "He was not one of the Judge's old cronies. Never would I have forgotten those piercing blue eyes or his willingness to risk everything for the living."

Lorrie chuckled with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Victoria, does your heart pitter-patter for another?"

Victoria huffed, her facade of aloofness cracking slightly. "Smother your nonsense! A lady may admire heroics from afar and not dishonor herself."

A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. The door opened, and James entered the room, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

His eyes met Victoria's with disdain, and then he turned to focus on Lorrie and Sandra. "How is she?" His voice was tense. "And why is that one here?"

A cold breeze blew across the room as Victoria turned away, her anger sending faint murmurings of distrust echoing around the room.

Lorrie adjusted Sandra's comforter before answering, "Sandra is resting comfortably. The tea has helped, of course." Lorrie nodded toward Victoria before continuing, "She says the Judge's friend saved our girl. Do you know how or why he was there?"

James sighed heavily. "Actually, I do. I've just come from Madeline's room. Your tea has put that thorn in my side in a pleasant state for the moment. The Judge and Tim, the stranger, were there as well."

Victoria's eyes flared with anger, and her presence seemed to drain the warmth from the air. Her haughty tone spoke volumes. "William's grandson? What does that snot-nosed boy have to do with any of this? No wonder nothing is getting done." Victoria spat, leaving a cold, icy sensation in the room. "Trying to follow in his grandfather's footsteps?"

"Not likely! The mob murdered him because they wanted the book, and he wouldn't give it to them. He's here because he pleaded his grandfather's case and was given one chance to make amends. On the other hand, your interference almost destroyed his efforts."

"My what?" Victoria's ethereal light sparked around her. "My actions, you mean! Do you dare to question me? You were doing nothing. You brought the mortal here but did not tell her anything. Well, now she knows what she's up against, right?" Objects in the room rattled, and faint whispers echoed as if the room itself protested her fury.

"Victoria, get off your pedestal. That might have worked in your day, but it won't do anything here. Sandra could have been lost forever, and the book has disappeared." James shook his head, trying to dispel his anger.

"Maybe the stranger has it?" Victoria murmured, suggesting he wasn't as innocent or heroic as it seemed.

"That's doubtful. His name is Tim, and his only concern was saving Sandra."

"Why? So, he's Billy's friend. What connection does that give him to the mortal?" Still searching for salvation for her acts, Victoria continued to portray the aristocrat she once was, speaking down to the others.

"She's an important part of his past. Like all of us, he has something to atone for. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and lost his wife and four-year-old daughter. He will risk everything, including his one chance for redemption, to save Sandra."

"She is his daughter?" Lorrie gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth in surprise. "James, we must tell her."

"I agree. Sandra needs to know the entire story, and whether she proceeds will be up to her. Noah, or any of us, ever thought this would become such a tangled web. The Judge —" James glared at Victoria. "Or, as Victoria says, Billy was only trying to save his grandfather by returning the hidden treasures, and then Ryan and Benny got caught up in it, too."

Lorrie's hands twisted her apron as she paced. "If the book —" She cried, "Oh, James, the Judge — both of them are doomed."

A sorrowful, guttural wail escaped Victoria's being. Her figure appeared to fade, losing its intense light. "No, it can't be. Tell me, I'm not responsible for dooming my love to hell. It can't be."

"Without the book —" James shrugged his shoulders.

"Wait! Sandra has the key. I gave it to her before we —" Victoria's voice trailed off.

James's eyes flared with anger as he spun around to face Victoria. He took several menacing steps toward her before Lorrie stepped between the two, clutching the front of his shirt.

"Now, James, get control of yourself. I'm sure Victoria is rightfully suffering as it is." She cast a doubtful look in the woman's direction before continuing,  "Squabbling won't —"

"Squabbling! If she weren't already dead, I'd kill her myself," James snarled. Exhaling, he removed Lorrie's hands and looked into her eyes. A gentleness returned, and he sighed. "You are right, dear lady. My job is to make amends and not anything else."

Mournful whispering floated from Victoria's being before she spoke, "I'm sorry. I was only trying to help. You know I would never do anything to hurt the Judge — my love. But how is his grandson involved in this?"

A spiteful grin crossed Lorrie's face as she answered, "You mean you've been left in the dark?" Lorrie chuckled and continued, "The Judge's last chance hangs on the success of his grandson, or Billy, as you prefer to call him."

"On Billy? How can that young boy atone for my William's mistakes?" Victoria huffed.

James answered this time.,"He's not a boy any longer. He was a well-respected Judge. He was murdered when the mob came looking for the book, and he refused to tell them where it was hidden. He knew that his grandfather had been trying to make amends before his untimely death, so he petitioned to stand in his place."

Victoria gasped. "You mean, he was willing to surrender himself to —" As remorse filled Victoria's being, her light brightened again, and the chill left the room.

A low moan from the bed stopped all conversation as the three ethereal spirits turned toward Sandra.

Lorrie hurried to the bedside, lifting Sandra's hand in hers. "She'll be awake very soon, James. It's time to call that meeting and clear the air. I'm sure she'll have plenty of questions if she doesn't jump out of bed and run. And you should be prepared with the answers."

*****

Sandra sat in the dimly lit study; a fog swirled around in her mind, leaving her confused and slightly disoriented. The lingering effects of the ethereal attack left her weak and drained. Her hands trembled as she wrapped them around a warm cup of tea, trying to calm her nerves.

She'd always been skeptical of the supernatural, but now, faced with her current reality, she couldn't deny the truth unless she was insane. She studied the crowded room, trying to recognize those she knew, those she had assumed were mortals, and those who sent goosebumps throughout her body.

Lorrie bustled about with trays of tea and pastries. James, the Judge, Ryan, and Benny were in deep conversation with another man. As he turned and glanced at Sandra, she felt a sudden warmth surround her.

Her eyes widened as she recognized him. He'd been the stranger who confronted her in the carriage house and warned her of the danger. Once again, she felt a familiarity in his face and a kindness in his piercing blue eyes.

Was he real or a ghost? Were any of these mortals? Surely, Lorrie and James were of this world, right? And the Judge, Ryan, and Benny —" Hadn't she talked and joked with them after Noah's funeral? They had to be mortals as well, right? Had Victoria been a dream and the rest a nightmare?

Sandra's gaze flitted from one figure to another, her thoughts racing as she tried to make sense of the surreal tableau before her. The warmth from the stranger's glance lingered, starkly contrasting the cold uncertainty gripping her.

Lorrie placed her tray on the side table and hurried across the room to Sandra. She was well aware of the confusion the girl must feel.

"Lorrie," Sandra began, her voice wavering slightly, "what's happening? Who are they?" She gestured towards the group engaged in conversation and the vague figures in the back of the room.

"James and a few others will explain it to you, my dear. You've been through quite an ordeal, which none of us intended." The housekeeper patted Sandra's arm. "Are you sure you are up to this conversation? It can wait if you aren't."

"No! I need to understand. Was —" She swallowed hard and let her eyes dart around the room, observing the people she thought she knew and those she did not. "Lorrie, did I awake from a nightmare, or am I still dreaming?"

"Oh, child, I know this is impossible to understand or accept, but I pray for everyone's sake you will try to listen and comprehend what they tell you."

Sandra's eyes pleaded as she looked at the housekeeper, the woman she had dubbed a sweet grandmother. "Are they real, a figment of my imagination or—" Sandra stammered, "Are they ghosts — spirits of dead people?"

Lorrie's smile was warm and comforting, but her words sent a chill through Sandra. "They are like us, dear. Souls trapped in this purgatorial mansion, seeking solace and redemption."

Sandra's mind reeled at the revelation. "But — but I've talked to them, laughed with them. They seemed so real."

James knelt beside Sandra's chair and took her trembling hand, his expression grave yet compassionate. "In this realm, realities intertwine, and the boundaries between mortal and spirit blur. The experiences you remember are real but exist in a plane where past and present converge."

Shaking her head, Sandra gulped. "You —" Her eyes shifted to Lorrie. "And you — you're spirits, too?"

Lorrie nodded. "James and I are here by our own choosing. Me, because this is the only home I ever knew. My grandmother and her mother were the first housekeepers. When my mother passed, I became the last one to exist in the mansion. It sat empty for years until it was deemed to be a way station, purgatory, so to speak. The people who were repentant of their past were given one last chance to redeem themselves. I chose to join James in managing the house. His duties are to write the ending of each spirit's story and present it to a panel that decides whether they receive eternal life or are doomed to damnation."

Sandra stammered, "The nightmare — were they —"

"Real?" James squeezed her hand. "Yes, but you were never to see them. Victoria overstepped." Lorrie's eyes darkened as she glared at the other woman.

Victoria, usually quick to display her emotions, remained silent, her gaze fixed on Sandra with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

"The Judge, Ryan, and Benny, are they spirits, too?"

"Yes, each one of them has their own story. The Judge and the book are what brought you here." James's eyes flickered toward Victoria, and then he continued, "Victoria refers to the Judge as Billy because he is the grandson of Judge William Parker, whose life story you discovered in the book. After his murder, our Judge chose to return to purgatory and make amends for his grandfather so that they both could live throughout eternity together. He hoped with your help, he could make the lives of some better by returning things stolen, providing money, or simply finding ways to better their lives."

"But why me? I'm a fledgling reporter with little knowledge of crime or spirits." Sandra choked on her words, "Until this second — this — couldn't — be real."

"We have watched you and observed your actions," Lorrie added gently, her ethereal presence exuding warmth despite the somber atmosphere. "You possess a kindness and determination that we believe can help us break free from this cycle of eternal suffering."

"You're asking me to save you from damnation?" Sandra finally spoke, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes widened in disbelief, but she remained silent, urging James to continue.

James nodded solemnly. "Yes, but it's not just for our sake. There are forces at play here, such as ancient debts and unfinished business, that tie us to this place. We believe that by helping us, you can find answers to your questions, perhaps even closure."

The stranger, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting, approached and joined the conversation. For some unexplainable reason, Sandra felt warm as the chill left her bones, and their eyes met.

"You — you were in the carriage house. You warned me of the danger. It's odd, but I felt like I knew you before that day. Is that possible?"

He smiled and introduced himself, "For now, you can call me Tim." His voice resonated with a quiet strength. "I've walked this path before you, navigating the complexities of this limbo. Your presence here is not a coincidence. I suggested to James and the Judge that you might hold the metaphorical and literal key to our salvation."

Sandra's heart raced as she absorbed the weight of Tim's words. "A key? What key?"

"You have the key to unlocking the mysteries that bind us here," James explained, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope. You have the power to unveil the secrets buried within this mansion, the truths hidden in forgotten memories."

"Me? But how?" Sandra's voice trembled with fear and determination.

Tim placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Through understanding, through courage, and through the choices you make. The path ahead is daunting, but you are not alone. A common goal, a shared destiny, binds us."

Sandra looked around, her eyes meeting those of her spectral companions and the strangers who were not quite mortal, not quite ghosts.

"Will you help us, Sandra?" Lorrie's voice carried a plea and a promise.

Sandra took a deep breath, steeling herself for the journey ahead. "Yes," she said with conviction, her voice steadier now. "I'll do whatever I can to help." Knowing she had no idea what she was getting herself into but determined to discover the secrets buried within the mansion walls, she agreed.

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
Tim - The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways
Victoria - the ghostly mistress


Chapter 14
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 14

By Begin Again

END OF CHAPTER 13
He smiled and introduced himself, "For now, you can call me Tim." His voice resonated with a quiet strength. "I've walked this path before you, navigating the complexities of this limbo. Your presence here is not a coincidence. I suggested to James and the Judge that you might hold the metaphorical and literal key to our salvation."

Sandra's heart raced as she absorbed the weight of Tim's words. "A key? What key?"

"You have the key to unlocking the mysteries that bind us here," James explained, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope. You have the power to unveil the secrets buried within this mansion, the truths hidden in forgotten memories."

"Me? But how?" Sandra's voice trembled with fear and determination.

Tim placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Through understanding, through courage, and through the choices you make. The path ahead is daunting, but you are not alone. A common goal, a shared destiny, binds us."

Sandra looked around, her eyes meeting those of her spectral companions and the strangers who were not quite mortal, not quite ghosts.

"Will you help us, Sandra?" Lorrie's voice carried a plea and a promise.

Sandra took a deep breath, steeling herself for the journey ahead. "Yes," she said with conviction, her voice steadier now. "I'll do whatever I can to help." Knowing she had no idea what she was getting herself into but determined to discover the secrets buried within the mansion walls, she agreed.

*****
CHAPTER 14
The sound of voices had drawn Madeline to the staircase. Fear and exhaustion were etched across her face, erasing her usual air of haughtiness. Her hair, usually perfectly styled, was disheveled, strands escaping the confines of her bun. Dark circles marred her eyes, evidence of the horrors she'd encountered — the loss of loved ones, the betrayal of trust, and the constant threat of danger.

After she struggled to wake from Lorrie's tea-induced sleep, the line between reality and dream was blurred. Now, as she huddled on the staircase, her shoulders were hunched as if expecting another wave of terror. Her hands trembled, her fingers gripping the worn railing. Her thoughts were a chaotic mix of the past — the horrifying nightmares, pangs of jealousy towards Sandra's acceptance into the mansion — a place Madeline had longed to be a part of, and most of all, the regret of lost opportunities of a life with Noah. Tears welled in her eyes as memories of Noah intertwined with the guilt of her betrayal.

"Why Sandra? Why not me?" Madeline's voice was a whisper, a plea to the universe. But she quickly silenced her thoughts. "Don't go there. You know what you've become since marrying Noah." Her voice was laced with bitterness, her mind a whirlwind of confusion, and yet, her heart yearned for something more, something she'd lost. The internal battle she waged was a storm of emotions threatening to consume her.

At the thought of Noah, the threatening tears prevailed and rolled down her cheeks. She brushed them away with her hand, reprimanding herself for lapsing into such foolishness. "It's too late! What's done is done, and you can't bring him back." Her words were a desperate plea, a futile attempt to convince herself of a truth she was unwilling to accept.

Madeline found herself in a perplexing dilemma, torn between her sense of reality and the unfolding events in the study below. She observed Sandra's interactions with the ethereal figures, her mind grappling with the question of their true nature. Were they mere figments of her imagination, ordinary humans, or something more extraordinary? A mix of skepticism and a glimmer of hope battled within her as she saw the ghostly figures, their movements casting eerie shadows on the walls. Sandra's ease of interaction with them amazed her.

A chill penetrated her bones, and icy tendrils of fear coiled around her heart as she sensed a presence on the staircase. The steps groaned beneath the unseen weight, and Madeline's head jerked toward the sound. Her breath misted in the frigid air as her eyes strained to see who was there.

She gasped, her heart skipping a beat, as the familiar scent of Noah's favorite cologne, a bittersweet memory, wafted toward her. Her voice caught in her throat, words failing her as she struggled to understand what was happening.

She whispered, "Noah?" She shivered, blinking to adjust her vision, but the figure remained. Stammering, she spoke, her voice barely audible. "Is this another nightmare? Am I imagining all of this?"

As if locked in a silent struggle, the ethereal figure advanced and retreated, its form flickering in and out of the darkness. With a final, deliberate step, it descended the stairs, materializing before Madeline's terrified gaze.

"Noah!" Madeline choked, her voice breaking with a mixture of disbelief and fear. Tears welled in her eyes as she stood, her legs trembling beneath her.

His fingers brushed the stray strands of hair away from her face, and he gently caressed her cheek. "Madeline, what happened to the woman I fell in love with?" he asked, his voice filled with longing, sadness, and a bit of reproach. "Is the treasure that important to you?"

Her lips quivered as she tried to speak, but the words would not form as she stared into the eyes of her deceased husband.

His facial features softened in the dim light as his hand dropped to his side. A flicker of warmth passed between their bodies before the chill returned. "Have you not learned anything? The mansion is a place of redemption or damnation. Choose wisely, my love."

Openly crying, Madeline's voice trembled with emotion, "You — still — love me? How is that — possible?"

Noah reached out his ghostly hand and touched her cheek. "Madeline, my heart was always yours. The treasure blinded you to my love."

Her eyes turned to focus on the scene below. "But everyone, including Lorrie and James, is consumed with finding the treasure. Isn't that why you are here?"

"I was. I was the catalyst for the search, not for my salvation, but theirs."

"I don't understand. Why would they need or want the treasure if they are truly ghosts and not part of my imagination? It can't possibly help them, can it?"

"They seek peace and forgiveness for their past wrongdoings. This is their purgatory. Their one chance to make amends or end in eternal damnation."

"Make amends? But how? The world would be turned inside out if ghosts began appearing everywhere."

Noah chuckled. "Heavenly bodies already mingle with the world, my love, but those in the mansion have not achieved that advantage. They require assistance, which was my position and possibly Sandra's, until my untimely death."

Madeline gasped and dropped her eyes toward the floor. She turned away, unable to face Noah's gaze. "I never meant to hurt you. Yes, I wanted the treasure, but I didn't know how far the sheriff would go to obtain the promise of wealth until it was too late."

"I know. You were blinded by the possibilities of a better tomorrow. I'm sorry my love wasn't enough for you."

Tears streamed down her face as she spun around to face Noah. "But it was! I wouldn't listen to my heart." She choked and shook her head, mumbling, "It's too late, but I am sorry."

Noah opened his arms and stretched them toward Madeline, offering her a safe haven and his forgiveness. Madeline's rigid posture slowly softened, letting the tension seep from her body. She leaned into Noah's ghostly frame and whispered his name, a silent plea for forgiveness and guidance, igniting a spark of hope amidst the dark despair.

******

"Look!" Victoria's voice was shrill as her slender hand pointed toward the staircase. "What's she doing here? Hasn't she caused enough trouble?" Her body glided swiftly across the room and up the stairs, carrying a frigid cold with her.

"And you —" Victoria sneered as she addressed Noah. "You are a bigger simpleton than I thought. This harlot cheated on you, causing your death and jeopardizing any of our chances to reach the hereafter."

The momentary warmth Madeline felt in Noah's arms evaporated as she quivered under Victoria's gaze, fearing another violent attack. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her throat tightened as if Victoria was gripping it.

"Victoria!" Lorrie's harsh voice stopped the woman from proceeding further. "Leave her alone. It's not your place anymore."

"My place!" Victoria waved her gloved hand toward Madeline's trembling figure. "She could never replace me as the mistress of this mansion. Society laughed behind her back as she made a fool of herself."

James had joined the calamity of bodies on the staircase. "It's not nor will it ever be your choice, Victoria. Your time has come and gone. Your only mission is to find redemption for you and your beloved judge. And since I make that final decision, it might be wise of you to mind your tongue and leave Madeline alone."

Victoria's hand snapped her silk fan in Madeline's direction before using it to cover her mouth as she whispered, "Until we meet again." Without another word, her stately figure vanished from the staircase, leaving Madeline shaking uncontrollably.

Without malice, Lorrie reached her hand out toward Madeline. "Come with me. I'll fix you a nice cup of tea to calm your nerves."

Madeline's eyes darted past the railing at everyone below. Her voice cracked, "Down — there?" She turned to look back upstairs, searching for Noah. "Where's —"

"Noah?" James gazed at the frightened woman, feeling a bit of compassion for her. "He didn't willingly desert you, but in the world of spirits, he's a newbie, and for now, he must respect those who came before him. He's not strong enough to take on a battle with Victoria. At least for now."

Lorrie piped up, "But I am and always will be. I won't let that woman harm you as long as it's what Noah desires." The portly housekeeper took Madeline's hand and smiled. "We might even become friends, deary, if you give all of us a chance."

Before Madeline could answer, she felt a slight tug on her arm and found herself standing in the kitchen. The room was filled with the aroma of freshly baked loaves of bread and pastries. Her eyes darted around the room and then at Lorrie.

Lorrie chuckled at the confusion spreading across Madeline's face and immediately felt a pang of regret. Maybe if she'd tried a bit harder, things would have been different from the start. Lorrie knew she'd not given the new mistress much of a decent welcome when she arrived at the mansion, wide-eyed and full of her step-up in the world. Having been Noah's right hand for many years, Lorrie hadn't given up her position gracefully.

Maybe this was her moment of redemption.

"Knowing your fear of the ones in the study, I took the shortcut. It's one of the bonuses of being a ghost. I can travel wherever I want to go in a flash." Lorrie placed a tea kettle on the stove and busied herself with the pastries. She nodded toward the back porch. "I believe a gentleman is waiting for you outside.

Still fearing the worst, Madeline frowned and glanced warily at the door. "Waiting for me?"

"There's nothing to fear, deary. Noah has asked me to serve you tea while the two of you chat." Lorrie grinned. "The way I see it, he'd like to resume the conversation you shared on the stairs before Victoria barged onto the scene."

Madeline's hand flew to her hair and then to her disheveled clothing. "But I —"

A loud chuckle burst from Lorrie's mouth, and her body shook with amusement. "He sees you through the eyes of love. You will always look beautiful and perfect to him. Now go! Even ghosts can get tired of waiting."

 

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
Tim - The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways
Victoria - the ghostly FORMER mistress in the 1800s


Chapter 15
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 15

By Begin Again

END OF CHAPTER 14

"Knowing your fear of the ones in the study, I took the shortcut. It's one bonus of being a ghost. I can travel wherever I want to go in a flash." Lorrie placed a teakettle on the stove and busied herself with the pastries. She nodded toward the back porch. "I believe a gentleman is waiting for you outside.

Still fearing the worst, Madeline frowned and glanced warily at the door. "Waiting for me?"

"There's nothing to fear, deary. Noah has asked me to serve you tea while the two of you chat." Lorrie grinned. "The way I see it, he'd like to resume the conversation you shared on the stairs before Victoria barged onto the scene."

Madeline's hand flew to her hair and then to her disheveled clothing. "But I —"

A loud chuckle burst from Lorrie's mouth, and her body shook with amusement. "He sees you through the eyes of love. You will always look beautiful and perfect to him. Now go! Even ghosts can tire of waiting."

*****

CHAPTER 15

"Damn you, William!" As Victoria's anger flared, the air in the room grew colder, and tendrils of icy droplets swirled around her ghostly form. Her voice echoed against the darkened walls, each word carrying the weight of centuries-old grudges. She'd been shunned as the mansion's mistress, and now, the forgiveness of Madeline's deceptions gnawed at her. She stopped brushing her hair and flung the silver hairbrush against the wall, the impact shattering the mirror into countless shards.

She strode across the room, the hem of her dress snagging on a protruding nail, as she leveled a fierce gaze at William. "How can you just sit there and let this happen?"

William's response was a chuckle, crackling like the rustle of parched pages, though it only served to incense Victoria further. He stroked his long white beard before speaking. "Too bad you can't bottle that hot air. It wouldn't cost so much to heat this monstrosity of a house."

A gust of wind swirled through the room, entering through the cracks in the walls. The candle flames flickered wildly, casting dancing shadows around the room, and a faint scent of roses lingered in the air. Victoria refused to cower before William, though she knew he was much more powerful than she was.

"How dare you speak to me that way after all I have tried to do for you?"

Her boot sailed past his head, followed by the other, which struck the side of his head. Her eyes widened as her glow faded, almost disappearing into the darkness, knowing she'd gone too far.

William's hand grabbed her arm, and his eyes glowed, much like the embers in the fireplace. His look was menacing, and his voice stern. "Your tantrum is unbecoming of a woman in your station. Would you prefer to join the ones grumbling deep below in the cellar? I'm positive any of those poor souls would be happy to trade places."

"You wouldn't!" Victoria challenged, but her scowl quickly turned to a seductive smile, and she batted her lashes at him. "Sweet William, you know how wicked Madeline has been. She never deserved to be with that simpleton, Noah, and now that he is dead, she deserves even less." She knelt beside him, softly running her hand along his arm. "I have no idea why he brought a woman from a bordello into the mansion. When I was the mistress, things were different. I knew how to provide a proper place for you and your associates. The women rushed to be seated at our dinner table or attend one of our lavish parties."

William's figure shifted from the overstuffed chair to the window, where he stared outside, lost in thought. "My love, have you forgotten how the women turned away whenever you approached them? After all, you were my mistress; nothing better than Madeline was to Noah."

Victoria clutched her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes as if tears were forming in their hollow sockets. She turned her back to William, her voice barely audible. "I'm mortified by your tone, William." She paused and added, "You know she wants the treasure and doesn't care what it means to you and everyone else in this mansion. Forgive me, but I'm just thinking about you, my love."

Victoria could sense the drop in temperature as William spoke. "Leave the treasure to my grandson and his friends. They will do what is necessary to free all of us. Interfering or threatening Madeline will do no good. Let her be Noah's concern, not yours."

"I will not be silenced and will not allow Madeline to claim what is rightfully ours." Her scowl shifted to a smile, but it was a facade. "William, we must take action to remove her before it is too late. This is your last chance for redemption, and I so want that for you."

As Victoria and William quarreled, their voices reverberated through the vast halls of the mansion, awakening the spirits of the past. The portrait of the previous owner, a stern-looking man with a handlebar mustache, appeared to disapprove of their behavior from his place above the grand fireplace. Several figures dressed in tattered rags gathered outside the door, their translucent forms shimmering in anticipation, as they found enjoyment as the couple challenged each other. Exchanging eerie smiles and murmuring, they began weaving their plan, one that might gain them the treasures yet repay Victoria for all the snobbery she'd delivered on them.

*****

Madeline's heart fluttered like a butterfly as she stepped onto the porch. Her anticipation of Noah's arrival turned her cheeks a rosy hue. But her hope was swiftly extinguished as she discovered she was standing alone. She whispered, "Noah," expecting his response, only to be greeted with an eerie silence.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she made her way to the railing, her gaze fixed on the sky, questioning why the radiant sun failed to thaw the icy grip on her body.

"Your sorrow is a delight to my ears, deary." Victoria's ethereal form seemed to flicker in the sunlight, casting a spectral glow around her. Her once-beautiful features twisted into a cruel smirk, her eyes like shards of ice piercing through the air with an evil glimmer. The delicate lace of her Victorian gown billowed around her, but there was nothing graceful about her movements; each step she took on the porch seemed to echo with a haunting resonance, a heavy, dreadful sound. The surrounding air seemed to thicken with a chilling presence as if the mansion was holding its breath. Her voice grated on Madeline's spine like fingernails scratching on the chalkboard.

"Not by choice, but Noah had more pressing matters to attend to, my dear." Victoria's smile was a twisted mockery devoid of warmth. Her hand shot out, seizing Madeline's wrist in a painful grip. "You should heed what I say, or I promise you'll regret it. The treasure will never be yours, nor will Noah. If you value your mortal existence, flee this mansion. Otherwise, the next time we cross paths, I might forget my ladylike manners, which is more than I can say for you, and —" Victoria's breath, a chilling mist, touched her prey, "Well, let's just say —" Her grin a chilling promise as she concluded, "There are fates far worse than death, my dear."

Madeline's eyes widened in terror, her scream piercing the serene afternoon. She yanked her arm from Victoria's grip, the ghost's long fingernails leaving angry red marks on her skin as she stumbled and collapsed onto the creaking floorboards.

Lorrie's urgent voice cut through the air from within the house. "Madeline, what's wrong?" She appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she caught a glimpse of Victoria's retreating figure. "Victoria, you have not chosen your fight wisely," she muttered as she knelt beside Madeline, her voice low but filled with a steely resolve. "Behind this kindly face lurks a warrior's heart."

Victoria glanced back, a fleeting expression of irritation crossing her ethereal features before she vanished into the shadows, leaving a chill lingering in the air long after she was gone.
 
Sandra, James, and Tim rushed onto the porch. Sandra joined Lorrie's side as she tended to Madeline. James recognized the lingering scent of Victoria's cologne and muttered, "That woman, ghost or not, is determined to cause problems."
 
Lorrie raised her head to look at James. "She's declared war, James, and it will not be a pretty sight."

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
Tim - The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways
Victoria - the ghostly FORMER mistress in the 1800s


Chapter 16
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 16

By Begin Again

END OF CHAPTER 15

Her hand shot out, seizing Madeline's wrist in a painful grip. "You should heed what I say, or I promise you'll regret it. The treasure will never be yours, nor will Noah. If you value your mortal existence, flee this mansion. Otherwise, the next time we cross paths, I might forget my ladylike manners, which is more than I can say for you."  Victoria's breath, a chilling mist, touched her prey. "Well, let's just say —" Her grin a chilling promise as she concluded, "There are fates far worse than death, my dear."

Madeline's eyes widened in terror, her scream piercing the serene afternoon. She yanked her arm from Victoria's grip, the ghost's long fingernails leaving angry red marks on her skin as she stumbled and collapsed onto the creaking floorboards.

Lorrie's urgent voice cut through the air from within the house. "Madeline, what's wrong?" She appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she caught a glimpse of Victoria's retreating figure. "Victoria, you have not chosen your fight wisely," she muttered as she knelt beside Madeline, her voice low but filled with a steely resolve. "Behind this kindly face lurks a warrior's heart."

Victoria glanced back, a fleeting expression of irritation crossing her ethereal features before she vanished into the shadows, leaving a chill lingering in the air long after she was gone.

Sandra, James, and Tim rushed onto the porch. Sandra joined Lorrie's side as she tended to Madeline. James recognized the lingering scent of Victoria's cologne and muttered, "That woman, ghost or not, is determined to cause problems."

Lorrie raised her head to look at James. "She's declared war, James, and it will not be a pretty sight."
******
CHAPTER 16

While Lorrie attended to Madeline's wounds and helped her inside, the others returned to the study. Having regained her composure, Madeline was upset.

"Did you know that woman was waiting for me?" Madeline probed as she delicately sipped her tea, her voice laced with anger.

"Oh dear, no! Noah had asked to see you. I never would have placed you in that situation." Lorrie busied herself with the bread dough rising on the counter. She brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, sending a fine flour spray into the air.

"Why does she despise me? I've never seen her around the mansion. This is all so confusing," Madeline voiced, her brows furrowing. "Is it because of Noah?"

Lorrie chuckled, her eyes glinting with a hint of anger. "Noah? The woman would scratch your eyes out if she wanted him, but I assure you she doesn't." The housekeeper seemed lost momentarily, staring blankly across the room before she continued, "It wasn't to Victoria's advantage to allow you to see her until today. That woman believes she rightfully holds the position of the mansion's mistress, and she wants nothing more than to drive you from the house. Especially since she knows you want to find the treasure, too."

"The mistress of this mansion!" Madeline's hand flew to her mouth, and she turned away from Lorrie before asking, "Oh heavens, was she Noah's wife?"

"Oh dear me, no!" Lorrie poured herself a cup of tea and joined the distraught woman at the table. "Madeline, you seem to accept the spirit of Noah as being possible, but you've decided everyone else is a figment of your nightmares."

"Weren't they? As I sit here with you, I even doubt Noah was anything more than a wishful dream," Madeline confessed, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "The idea of ghosts, spirits lingering in this world, it's just — unbelievable."

Lorrie heaved a heavy sigh and twisted her apron several times, her heart aching for Madeline's struggle to accept the truth. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and reached for Madeline's hand. "I'm well aware that you consider the existence of ghosts to be sheer nonsense, but you are wrong."

Madeline was quick to continue her skepticism, "Lorrie, you've lived in the mansion for years. I can't imagine you'd have stayed if the place was haunted."

"Tsk-tsk —" Lorrie muttered, shaking her head as she stared at Madeline. The woman hadn't been on her list of favorite people, but it was her duty to keep her from harm, if possible. "Changing your way of thinking, dear, is essential for your own well-being. Look at your arm and tell me those fingernail scratches aren't real."

Madeline glanced at her arm and shivered as she felt her entire body turn cold. "You want me to believe the vindictive woman is a ghost?"

"That's exactly what I want you to believe, Madeline. And you appear to be a threat to her. She will stop at nothing to get what she wants."

Madeline gasped. "I was married to Noah and had every right to be here. Why is the treasure so important to her if she's dead?"

"She has her reasons, and now you have given her another one. She considers herself at the top of the hierarchy in this mansion. You are a threat to her." Lorrie sighed. "There's a flaw in her thinking, of course, but that won't help you. Forget the treasure, Madeline, if you value your life."

Madeline mumbled, "Maybe you are right, Lorrie." Her eyes dropped from Lorrie's gaze, but something needled at her as she sipped her tea.

Lorrie's keen eyes watched Madeline, sensing the turmoil brewing in her. Was it because of Noah, or had Victoria tossed her a gauntlet she couldn't turn away from?

Across the table, Madeline silently questioned herself. Ghost or not, I'll not let that woman drive me from this mansion. Finding the treasure might be the perfect payback. It belongs to Noah, not her.

She lifted her eyes toward Lorrie and smiled. "Of course, you know best. If it's okay, I'll stay another day or two to rest and then leave the mansion." The words no sooner crossed her lips than an unexpected icy finger strummed her spine, reminding her of the danger.

*****

Sandra settled into one of the study's plush armchairs, her legs tucked underneath her. Her eyes scanned each man in the room, studying them carefully. As an investigative reporter, she understood the importance of knowing the people, or in this case, ghosts that surrounded her. She recalled meeting Ryan, Benny, and the Judge at Noah's funeral. They had appeared friendly and relaxed then, but now she sensed an underlying tension and unease among them. The recent events and Tim's arrival had transformed the atmosphere from cordial to suspicious.

James pulled a chair beside Sandra and gestured for everyone to gather closer. "Sandra, I intended to have this conversation with you much earlier before you became embroiled in things you couldn't possibly understand."

The other men nodded, and Sandra smiled nervously. "Weeks ago, I would have laughed if someone said the mansion was haunted. But now, I must admit, regardless of what I thought, I know it's true."

James touched her arm, trying to assure her before he continued, "You won't be alone, I promise you. We will always be nearby unless you must leave the mansion. If that happens, only Lorrie, I, and Madeline, of course, can leave the property, which includes the cemetery." James looked at the men and added, "I think each of them should briefly summarize why you're here and what's keeping you in limbo. Let's start with you, Judge."
 
The Judge nodded to James, took a deep breath, and exhaled. "We met at the cemetery, and I introduced myself as Judge William Parker. I'm sure finding the book in my office must have raised a lot of questions in your mind, including the possibility that I have a criminal history. But the truth is, the book belonged to my grandfather, the first Judge William Parker."

Sandra breathed a sigh of relief. "So, you aren't that man." She dropped her eyes toward her lap and murmured, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
 
The men chuckled and exchanged knowing glances. James shared their reactions and then spoke to Sandra, "Excluding Billy and myself, everyone is here because their history wasn't without blemishes." He nodded toward the Judge. "Please, continue."

"My grandfather led a very colorful life but tried to make amends before passing. He began hiding his ill-gotten gains within the walls of this mansion, intending to somehow return them without exposing his fellow cohorts. Before he could, he was murdered."

"Murdered?" Sandra stared at the men, once again wondering if she belonged in this atmosphere. Losing Peppy, a blue parakeet, to Killer, the neighbor's cat, had been too traumatic before now.

Billy nodded. "In the criminal world, grudges don't disappear easily. Each generation searched for the book, hoping to find it and the treasure. I met a similar fate when the wrong people discovered I knew about the book. I refused to give it up and paid the price."

Sandra frowned. "But why come here? What do you hope to achieve?"

"Unlike most, I hesitated to enter the gates of the hereafter. Instead, I pleaded for the chance to redeem my grandfather. My intentions were noble, but my abilities were limited in limbo. I'm here, seeking his redemption by uncovering the hidden treasure with your help."

"Every person who exists in purgatory passes through the mansion. The undesirables live deep in the bowels of the cellar, awaiting their final destination: the fiery pit of damnation. The ones given a chance at redemption wait within the confines of the mansion or roam the cemetery at night until the prayers of someone in their past are answered. Hopefully, a wrong is repaid. Then James must write the ending of each person's story, give it to the panel, and a final decision is made. I hope to discover where the treasure is hidden and, with your help, return it to the rightful owners."

"Why doesn't your grandfather just tell you where it is?" Sandra prodded, hoping for more information.

"The bullet that killed him went through his head, shattering most of his memory. The book was our only hope."

Sandra's eyes widened, and she gasped. "Oh, I lost the book! Have I doomed all of you?" Her entire body trembled as she imagined the worst.

James clasped Sandra's hand in his and squeezed it lightly. "Don't get upset. Victoria said you had the key, but no one can get to the treasure without it. There is still hope that we can uncover it. You have it, right?"

"The key?" Sandra shifted her hand from James's grip and patted her pocket. "I remember I took it from the book, but —"

"Think, Sandra. What did you do with the key?"

Deep in thought, Sandra struggled to push past all the latest events. She rubbed her temples, trying to remember. Suddenly, she blurted, "The jewelry box. I put it in the jewelry box before following Victoria."

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
Tim - The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways
Victoria - the ghostly FORMER mistress in the 1800s


Chapter 17
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 17

By Begin Again

THE END OF CHAPTER 16 

"Why doesn't your grandfather just tell you where it is?" Sandra prodded Billy for more information.

"The bullet that killed him went through his head, shattering most of his memory. The book was our only hope."

Sandra's eyes widened, and she gasped. "Oh, I lost the book! Have I doomed all of you?" Her entire body trembled as she imagined the worst.

James clasped Sandra's hand in his and squeezed it lightly. "Don't get upset. Victoria said you had the key, but no one can get to the treasure without it. There is still hope that we can uncover it. You have it, right?"

"The key?" Sandra shifted her hand from James's grip and patted her pocket. "I remember I took it from the book, but — 

"Think, Sandra. What did you do with the key?"

Deep in thought, Sandra struggled to push past all the latest events. She rubbed her temples, trying to remember. Suddenly, she blurted, "The jewelry box. I put it in the jewelry box before following Victoria."

******

CHAPTER 17

In her excitement about the key, Sandra pushed herself out of the overstuffed chair. The study was dimly lit, and she lost her balance, tumbling against James. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as James caught her and waited until she was steady on her feet.

"Sandra, what's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. I wanted to retrieve the key and give it to you." Sandra bit her lip, unable to hide her nervousness. 

"You said the key is in your jewelry box. It's safe for now. I think we should finish our conversation. It's been put off for far too long." James tried to soothe her, holding onto her hand. 

"But —" Sandra's gaze shifted to the staircase and then back to the men, her mind imagining the key missing, too.

"All we've discussed is the treasure, but each man has a story and hopes to find redemption. They've all seen their past lives entwined with the Judge and have put their chances of eternal life into the same basket."

Ryan chimed in, "One for all. We've become friends, and we either solve this together or find ourselves burning in hell." 

"Sit down, Sandra—please. It will only take a few more minutes to share their stories, and then I'll go with you to get the key." James gestured towards the chair, hoping Sandra would give the others a few more minutes. 

Losing the book weighed heavily on Sandra's mind. If the key was their only hope, she wanted to keep it safe. Her eyes traveled to the men and then to the staircase. "Couldn't this wait?" 

"It could, but I think it's been long enough. Please give the men a few more minutes." Sandra nodded reluctantly and lowered herself into the chair, her hands fidgeting with the doily on the armrest. 

James seized the chance and began, "Take Tim. He was caught up in a crime and didn't realize it until it was too late. He couldn't get back to his family to explain." James paused and turned to Tim. "Would you like to continue with your story?" 

Tim's piercing blue eyes locked on Sandra, and he quickly turned to James. "Let Ryan and Benny tell their stories first. Sandra is worried about the key, so why don't I go upstairs to get it? She can listen to them, and I can tell my story later." 

Before anyone could protest, he abruptly pushed his chair back, stood, and headed toward the stairs, leaving each staring at his back. Tension filled the air as they all exchanged worried glances. The men knew Tim's story and wondered why he hesitated to tell Sandra. 

*****

"What are you doing?" an angry male voice snarled. 

Startled, the woman spun around to face the intruder, her heart pounding. Her dark eyes widened with a mixture of fear and recognition as she saw the shadowy figure in front of her. His ghostly presence chilled the room. She tilted her head, a feeble attempt to mask her unease. "How dare you speak to me in that tone?" 

The male figure advanced, his movements slow and deliberate, a looming threat. Feeling her heart race, the woman instinctively retreated, her hands trembling as she reached to steady herself against the dresser. She couldn't help but glance nervously at the jewelry box. William Parker's unexpected intrusion had shattered her sense of security, leaving her momentarily vulnerable to him.

Recovering, she offered a lie. "I lost an earring. I thought Sandra might have found it and placed it in the jewelry box. Noah gave it to me as a wedding present. I'd hate to lose it." 

Without warning, the Judge grabbed her arm and twisted it, making her wince in pain. Her scream echoed through the walls. "Stop! You're hurting me. I don't know who you are, but this is my house, and I can come and go as I please."

"Dressed like the mortal?" William laughed and then sneered, his eyes glowing like fiery embers. "I must admit you have been able to look exactly like the woman, but you can never fool me, Victoria." 

Immediately, Victoria's disguise faded, taking her confidence with it. She stood there, vulnerable and trembling, as William loomed over her. She mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. "I — I was thinking of you, of us." She rubbed her wrist and offered a pout. "You didn't have to hurt me." 

William yanked her into his arms, his eyes dark and threatening. His relentless touch sent shivers down her spine, a stark reminder of his power. "Your independence drew me to you like a moth to fire, but you've gone too far. I'd be devastated if I lost you."

Sensing William's softness, Victoria seized the moment. "Let go of me, William. What's wrong with you?"

"With me? You've assumed the appearance of a mortal so that you can rummage through the other woman's personal effects." He released her, but his eyes blazed with anger. "Why would you jeopardize our only chance? Is your vanity that important to you? Or do you desire the treasure for another reason?" 

The air in the room crackled as the couple faced off. Victoria knew she had to tread carefully, knowing how ruthless William could be. "Of course not, William. I only care about finding the treasure to redeem your soul." 

"What — at the cost of losing yours? I warned you, Victoria. Leave this nonsense before you regret it." An icy mist spewed from his lips as he spat out his wrath.

"I will, William." She reached out to him and brushed his lips with her own, hoping to calm his rage. "I promise." She turned as a trace of a smile touched her mouth, and she reached for the jewelry box. 

"If you are looking for —" William taunted as Victoria's eyes flared. 

"The key?" Victoria gasped when she saw it in his fingers. She tried to snatch it from his hand, but William reacted faster. 

"I told you to leave it to Billy. You are in dangerous territory, my dear. My love for you can't protect you from what might happen if you continue to pursue your vendetta."

"Vendetta?" Victoria's shrill voice penetrated the walls, stopping Madeline in the hallway as she passed Sandra's room. "Don't talk such foolishness, Judge. The mortals, especially that Madeline woman, aren't worth my time." 

Madeline pressed closer to the door, wondering about the angry voices from Sandra's room. She listened intently; her curiosity piqued. Her heart quickened, and a coldness covered her body as she realized the voices were discussing her. She turned to leave, but the voices drew her back.

"Is that why you are trying to set her up to take the blame because she's not a challenge to you? I know you too well, woman." William's laugh was chilling — an eerie threat. "You always have a way of clouding my judgment, Victoria, but not this time." 

Madeline gasped as her blood ran cold. She recognized Victoria's evil tone, but who was the man? It didn't sound like James. And why were they in Sandra's room? Was Victoria trying to set her up for something? Her mind rushed back to Lorrie's warning. Afraid, she moved away from the door and hurried toward her room. 

Meanwhile, Tim stood unseen on the stair landing, observing Madeline. As she hurried down the hallway, he slipped through the walls, sensing someone had recently been in the room. The jewelry box remained open, but the key was gone.

******

Unaware of the events unfolding upstairs, Detective Ryan Hamilton stared at his shoes, unable to look directly at Sandra. His voice was low and uncertain. "I'm not sure I even belong in this circle, ma'am." 

James interrupted Ryan, "Stop it, man. We've had this discussion time and time again." He directed his following sentence toward Sandra, "Ryan feels responsible for Noah's death." 

"I'm a Detective, James. I was in this house. We shared a drink and got into a heated argument. We don't know what happened." 

"Can I ask what the argument was about?" Sandra wasn't sure what was expected of her, but she could only get answers if she asked the questions.

Ryan shrugged. "Madeline, of course. I'd seen her in town with the sheriff. Noah was my friend, and I was angry that he couldn't see how she was using him." 

"You didn't get physical with each other, did you?" 

"No. Noah offered me a drink before I left. I might have taken a sip, but I know I didn't drink all of it. The next thing I knew, I woke up in my car, parked outside the mansion. I don't remember anything." 

"Nothing?" Sandra quizzed. "What did you see when you woke up?"

Ryan took a deep breath before answering, "I had blood all over my hands and clothes."

"Did you report seeing the silver car?" Sandra was sure the car could be a vital clue.

"I was going to, but I went home to clean up. On my way into town, I saw the car with the broken light and pulled the driver over. I called in the plates and found out the car was stolen." Ryan looked away, pausing for a minute. "This is where things get fuzzy. I approached the car, my gun drawn. The driver lowered his window. I saw the muzzle of his gun and felt a burning explosion in my chest. As I fell to the ground, taking my last breath, I swore I saw his face." 

"Who's face? Was it someone you knew, Ryan?"

"I don't know if my brain was playing tricks, but I thought it was the sheriff." 

James and Benny spoke in unison, "Ryan didn't kill Noah. Someone framed him." 

Sandra nodded. "That makes sense. Don't you see, if it was the sheriff or Madeline who killed Noah, you were the only one left alive to prove it?"

"But why did I pass out? And where did the blood come from?" 

James was quick to jump in, "There was no blood when Lorrie and I found Noah, so it wasn't from him." 

"That's good to know." Sandra mulled over Ryan's story, shifting mentally through the information he'd provided. "Ryan, you said you had a drink with Noah." 

"Well, he gave me one, but I think I only took a small sip. I was uncomfortable because Madeline joined us. I left, and everything was blank until I woke up in the car." 

"That's it, Ryan. We believe Noah was drugged, and the pills caused his death. If they were in the liquor, you only drank enough to make you unconscious. Someone poured blood on you while you were knocked out. Most likely, the same someone who was driving the car and shot you." 

Ryan jumped out of his chair. "The sheriff?" 

Before anyone could answer, Tim ran down the stairs, shouting, "The key is gone." 

Author Notes Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
Tim - The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways
Victoria - the ghostly FORMER mistress in the 1800s

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