The Haunting Of Bechdel Mansion (9 page)

She crept down the hallway, flicking a light
switch on the wall that did not work. She then turned on her flash
light and continued down the hall. The house was quiet with nary a
disturbance. The noise of their old city seemed like a distant
memory. At the moment, Mary would have done anything to hear a car
engine, a siren, or a train. She was tired of thinking of their new
home as the Bechdel mansion. Maybe Curtis was right. It was so long
ago, why couldn’t they just make the place her own? She then came
to the stairs, hesitant to enter the black abyss below.

She never considered herself a fearless
person. She knew when to stray from danger when it was right in
front of her, especially living in Chicago, but if she was to be
afraid to venture the house along, day or night, she feared that
she could never make the transition work.

“Come on. What are you waiting for?” she
asked herself in a soft voice. She pointed the flashlight down the
stairs walked down, step by thick, marble step. She reached the
foyer and was met with a series of unpacked boxes all over the
room. The boxes casted shadows against the light which had her on
edge. She couldn’t deny a slight pinch of fear coupled with her
increasing heartrate. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She was
seeing things—figures against shadow that her mind gave life
to.

She rushed past the stacked boxes and headed
toward the dining room, closing in toward the kitchen. She flicked
on the kitchen light switch in haste. A series of long fluorescent
bulbs from above flickered on, much to her relief. Their new
stainless steel refrigerator hummed in the corner next to the
dishwasher. She approached the fridge with the intent of grabbing a
bottle or two and going back to bed, but the grumbling in her
stomach told her otherwise.

She swung the fridge open and grabbed two
water bottles from the middle shelf, setting them on the counter.
Inside, the fridge was practically empty. There was half a tuna
salad sandwich Curtis had gotten her from the diner earlier, a loaf
of bread, and some cold cuts. Not wanting to spend too much time in
alone, she grabbed the to-go box and closed the door. Sandwich and
water in hand, she left the kitchen, leaving the light on behind
her.

As she passed through the dining room, Mary
felt more at ease and less afraid of the bare, looming walls along
her way. She turned the flashlight back on, balancing her sandwich
and drinks and suddenly heard an unmistakable sound coming from the
foyer. She slowed her pace, and listened. It was the familiar
scratching sound from before, coming from another room.

Rodents
, she
thought.

Pest control had done a sweep of the house
earlier in the day, but their work was far from over. The
scratching ceased and she continued on, when another sound stopped
her dead in her tracks: the faint cry of an infant. She couldn’t
believe it. She had to be dreaming. She slowed again and followed
the sound, past the stair case and toward the rooms on the other
side of the hall.

The crying grew louder with each step.
Shining her flashlight ahead, she looked down and saw that her
hands were trembling. As she stopped at the first door to her
right, the crying became clearer. There was no door to muffle it.
The sound was coming from the living room. She peeked inside,
waving the flashlight around. The crying stopped. The hairs on the
back of her neck stood up in unison.

What the hell was it?

She braved forward and entered the living
room, clutching the bottles of water against her chest. Ahead in
the corner, just beyond the beam of the flashlight, she saw
something small huddled in the corner. It looked small and furry.
Too large to be a rat or a feline. Too small to be human. The cries
resumed. Whatever it thing was, it was most definitely making the
noise.

She stopped within five feet of the thing
and tried to steady her flashlight. A loud screech from all around
startled her, just as the figure came into view, turning its
gleaming yellow eyes fang-ridden face in her direction, hissing.
She screamed just in time to see the figure scurry off to the other
side of the room, burrowing into a small hole near above the
baseboard.

The figure had ears, whiskers, and a
stripped tale. She stumbled back, dropping her food and water, and
bolted for the exit. She ran without turning back, vaulting up the
stairs and into the room with adrenaline flowing through her
veins.

She closed the door and threw her back
against the wall, breathing heavily. “A raccoon…” she said,
exasperated. “A freaking raccoon.”

Chapter Eight

A New Discovery

Mary woke the next morning still feeling
rattled from the incident before. Curtis had just walked out of the
bathroom in his robe with steamy mist following him as Mary sat up,
agitated. “This house is infested,” she said.

Curtis stopped and dried his bushy hair with
a towel, curious. “What are you talking about?”

Mary flipped her legs over and onto the
floor as moved to the edge of the bed. “I went downstairs last
night to grab a bottle of water and I saw a raccoon, clear as day.
It hissed at me and burrowed into a hole in the wall.”

Curtis’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Are you
serious?”

“Of course I’m serious, and that’s not all.
I heard things, Curtis. A baby crying. It was terrifying.”

Concerned, Curtis approached her as he
tossed his towel to the floor. “I’m sorry that happened to you.
Pest control will be here this morning and they’ll take care of it.
He already set up a bunch of rodent traps yesterday just to be
sure.”

“It’s not just the raccoon. There’s
something strange about this house, sinister even, and it seems to
get worse with each day.”

Curtis took a step back and shook his head.
It was clear he didn’t want to entertain her notions of the
supernatural. “I haven’t seen or heard a thing.”

She opened her mouth, and Curtis cut her
off, quick to prevent an argument. “I’m not saying that I don’t
believe you. I just think your nerves are a little shot with
everything going on. That’s why I want you to relax. We have plenty
of people to get this place in working order.”

Mary was anything but satisfied with his
response. “I’m not crazy.”

Curtis let out a nervous laugh as he stood
in the sunlight beaming into the room. “Of course not. I believe
you. I think this is all part of those visions you’re talking
about.” He then came closer and knelt down in front of her, taking
her hands in his. “I think you have a gift, Mary, and it must be
frustrating when no one sees or hears the things you do.” He
squeezed her hands, trying to sound understanding. “But I think
that’s just what they are, visions and nothing more.”

Mary didn’t know what else to say. It was
clear to her that more research on the house was the only answer.
She nodded and looked into his eyes with sincerity. “I’m going to
get to the bottom of this. Mark my words.”

Curtis rose, seeming pleased enough. “I
think you should. You have an excellent intuition.”

“The whole town is weird,” she said, perhaps
too hastily. She looked down and retracted a bit. “Well… At least
the people I’ve met so far.”

“Speaking of which,” Curtis said, walking to
his dresser and pulling out some clothes. “We’ve been invited to a
Barbecue next Sunday at the church.”

“How’d you hear about that?” Mary asked.

Curtis disrobed and put on a pair of shorts
and University of Chicago T-shirt, checking himself in the mirror
angled on top of the nightstand. “I met someone at the diner before
you arrived. He’s the pastor at the church we passed.” He thought
for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “Pastor Phil was his
name.”

“I met him too,” Mary said. “He approached
me on the street. Seemed like he already knew who I was. Same with
you.”

“I admit, he did seem very friendly and
outgoing.”

“He’s been living here since the seventies.
Can you believe that?” Mary said.

Curtis turned with a shrug. “From what I
hear, once people move to Redwood, they don’t want to go anywhere
else.”

“I’m sure they don’t,” Mary said softly.

Curtis moved toward the door, ready to get
started with his day. “Plenty of warm water left in the shower,” he
said. He paused, hand on the doorknob and turned back to Mary. “So
are you in for next Sunday?”

“The barbecue?” Mary asked.

“Yeah. You said so yourself that we should
go to church more often.”

Mary arched a brow. “And I’m sure this has
nothing to do with you fishing for prospective clients.”

“It has everything to do with that,” Curtis
said with a laugh. “I’ve got to try to make a living somehow.”

Mary nodded. “Sure. Next Sunday. Let’s do
it.”

Curtis seemed happy and said he had work to
do, leaving Mary in the room as he shut the door behind him. She
looked around their nearly setup master bedroom, wondering exactly
how she was going to spend the day. It was Monday, and she expected
more of the same—landscapers, roofers, movers, and all the like
working in unison. More incessant hammering from above, ore lawn
mowers blaring, and more and more people than she could even
handle. Granted, they were there to help Mary and Curtis fix their
dream house, but at that moment, she had never felt so alone.

She showered and went downstairs dressed in
her sneakers, pink sleeveless button-down shirt and jean shorts,
just in time to see Curtis talking with the pest control team in
the foyer. There were two men, lanky and young-looking with red
polo shirts and hats. They nodded along as Curtis explained to them
the potential areas where rodents and other issues could be. He
then stopped and looked up at Mary as she came to the bottom of the
stairs.

“Ah, there she is,” Curtis said. “Honey,
could you kindly show these gentlemen where you saw the raccoon
last night?”

“My pleasure,” she said, signaling to the
hall to the right. “Right this way.”

The two men thanked Curtis and followed Mary
as she led them to the living room. It was empty, just as before,
and less ominous in the daytime. Two bottles of water lay on the
floor along with a to-go box. Mary carefully picked up the box to
see that the sandwich was still inside. Regardless, it was going
into the garbage.

She then went immediately to the far corner
of the room across the hardwood floor to where she saw the raccoon.
As suspected, there were tiny scratch marks on the wall, clear as
day.

“Right there,” she said, pointing. “That’s
where I saw it last night.”

The pest control teamed eyes the wall, hands
on their chins, as Mary went straight across the to the other side
of the room. “It ran over here and crawled back into the wall.” She
stopped at a hole near the baseboard, about five inches wide. She
couldn’t say how the raccoon squeezed in there so quickly, but the
hole was evidence enough.

The men approached as the taller one with a
goatee shinned his flashlight inside the hole. “Damn,” he said. “We
can get in there, but it’s gonna be tricky.”

“Whatever you have to do,” she said. “This
particular raccoon seemed very mean. I don’t want to mess
around.”

The two men turned and looked at each other.
The goatee man scratched his head and spoke with careful
reconsideration. “We have a bunch of traps in our van. Of course,
we can try to lure it out instead of banging up your wall.”

“She could have babies, Earl,” the other man
said. “It’s best to take a look.”

“Fine,” the goatee man said. He then looked
at Mary. “That okay with you?”

Mary thought of Curtis and all the effort in
money they were putting into fixing the place up. “Keep the
destruction to a minimum please.” Though she was eager for them to
tear into the wall and get whatever was living inside of there
out.

Earl looked up, scanning the room. “It’s a
big house, ma’am, but we’ll try out best.”

They left the room as Mary paced around the
center of the floor, stricken with worry. The infant cries were
coming back to her. There was no way that any kind of animal could
have made a noise so distinctive. It was yet another strange,
unexplained occurrence. She walked to the window in the living
room, looking outside at the front courtyard.

Curtis was by the empty fountain talking
with some contractors. The pest control team were at their red van,
pulling out some equipment. Earl had a crowbar in hand. She assumed
that was how they were going to do it. She turned and walked back
to the hole on the other side of the room. The faded and stained
beige walls around her needed a good painting. The same could be
said for pretty much every other room in the house.

She pulled a mini-flashlight from her pocket
and shined it into the hole out of curiosity. She could barely see
a thing beyond the light in the darkness, but as she held her hand
against the hole she felt faint, cool air against her palm. She
took a knee and tried to get a better look and then she heard
something. She froze, just as a man with a noisy leaf blower passed
by the window, distracting her. She pressed her ear against the
hole, listening as the sound of the leaf blower finally passed.

Silence returned to the room. Mary remained
still, eyes looking upward and trying to make out the faint noise
inside the wall. It sounded like a groan. She pressed her ear
closer, practically inside the hole. It was the long-winded groan
of a man, fading but clear enough.

The sound soon vanished just as quickly as
it appeared. With intense focus, Mary backed away and clutched the
side of the hole, trying to pry bits of the wall off to make the
hole larger. Something came over her, a need or obsession, and she
pulled and pulled until she tore a piece of hard plaster from the
wall and fell back in surprise.