“No. I guess the ghost stories—or even the court records—don’t include the fact that he was married before. His first wife passed away from a fever. So, Kylie, you might not be so far off with your revenge theory. But that puts tons of people in Salem in danger. These things happened so many years ago. Dozens of people might be descendants of those suspected of—or who really did commit—the murders. We have a lot of family trees to trace.”
“But if whoever did this is somehow seeking revenge for things that happened hundreds of years ago—”
“That person is probably descended from someone he sees as having been wronged and left without receiving justice. The very concept is crazy. But it is a direction for us to go.”
“Right, got it,” Kylie said. “We’re looking for a werewolf who might also be a clown, who might be descended from a victim of Brim House.”
He looked at her gravely. “I need you to start on research.”
“Oh?”
“I have places to go, people to see,” he told her.
“Really?” she said.
“No, I don’t really have places to go, but I do have people to see. You’ll get to see them, too, though. Because I have them coming to Brim House.”
“People are willing to come to Brim House? Even with the latest press conference?”
“Yes. Which makes it all the more interesting to see those I want to see at Brim House. Possibly, right in the den.”
Chapter 5
Archives were exhausting, but Jon knew Kylie loved research. He found it intriguing, but it was also tedious—sometimes telling and often not.
They had stopped for lunch before heading for the house, knowing what to expect.
The place was, beyond a doubt, a mess.
The false wall was gone, and the old brick of the structural wall was sturdy but shedding crumbling bits and pieces of dust about the den.
The forensics team had trampled the floors when they finished up, seeking whatever clues they might be able to find to identify whoever had entered the room carrying a dead woman.
But the kitchen was clean and in good repair. When Jon and Kylie checked upstairs, they discovered a brand-new bed in one room, along with linens and towels still in their store wrappings. Someone had swept the floors up here, but the bathroom attached to the bedroom—probably added in the 1970s—wasn’t up to date with modern standards. It was usable, in working order, and clean, however.
“Okay?” he asked Kylie.
“Sure,” Kylie said, giving him a shrug. “Brenda told me negotiations on the work needing to be done had been fierce—though not because of her. She had simply wanted the house in the worst way. You don’t know Brenda that well, but she’s passionate about history and justice—and, honestly, all good things. When she bought the house, she knew the bad things about it, of course. But she was more enchanted by all the good things. It was here during the Revolutionary War. Before and after, the owner at the time had been fierce in siding with—and helping, we believe—the people’s written protests regarding the tax punishments the British intended after the Boston Tea Party.”
Jon chimed in. “Salem was part of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, and the world was witch-crazy at the time. The first person hanged for witchcraft in the Colonies was Alse Young—in Windsor, Connecticut. No, it didn’t turn into hundreds being accused, but the point is bad things have happened everywhere.”
“I know that. And Brenda knows that. But buying the house, well, it meant a lot to her. She is a proud New Englander. She considers the history of Salem, Massachusetts to be so rich—tragic, but rich—because she especially loves the fact that the country’s founding fathers knew the history here. It influenced them, and they made sure that such things as spectral evidence would not be allowed in the courts. And that all citizens had absolute freedom of religion.”
“I should have asked before. What does Brenda do for a living? Teacher…researcher?”
Kylie shook her head. “Brenda is artistic. She works for a major retailer as a window designer. But she has wanted to write a book about the events here and how they influenced the Age of Enlightenment for ages. The thing is, she didn’t much care about the state of the house. Mandy Nichols fought to make sure that when Brenda bought the place, she’d be able to live in it right away. That any repairs, updates, and whatever else could be done at her leisure. So, yeah, workers were due to start today. But, of course…”
“What about Internet?” he asked.
Kylie smiled. “Oh, there’s Internet. Brenda worried about that before she even thought about electricity, trust me. Now that we have both, I can set up my computer in the kitchen. Or the bedroom if you’d like me out of the way.”
“You don’t need to be out of the way—another person listening to everything is good.” He glanced at his watch and smiled at her. “The Flannerys are due in about twenty minutes.”
“The next-door neighbors? They agreed to talk to you? But you said no one saw anything, and since they know the missing woman was found dead here, you’d think that…”
“They’d refuse to talk to an agent who is not even officially on the case?” he asked.
Kylie grimaced, dug her computer out of her bag, and headed into the kitchen. But she had barely left the parlor before she returned, looking toward the den.
“What?” Jon asked.
“I thought I…well, I thought Brenda saw something in the wall on one of the wooden support beams or columns, whatever they are.”
“Something more than a skeleton and a body?”
“The wood. It’s old, I know, with all kinds of scratches from construction, and it’s splintering in areas, but…is it all right if I go into the den and look?”
“Of course. The forensic team finished with the place. We wouldn’t be in here if they hadn’t. I have my penlight, though most of the false wall has been torn away.”
Kylie nodded and walked into the den.
“Brenda entered the house filled with excitement,” Kylie said. “And she had a big flashlight. She came through the parlor and walked into the den, then just leaned back to see what was in the room. Right there,” she said, indicating a place where bits of the false wall remained. “When she leaned on it, it broke, and she looked to her right and saw the skull first. It seemed to be staring at her from its empty eye sockets—or so she thought. Then she realized there was something behind it, and the light caught on the victim’s face. She saw flesh. But right above that…there. Jon. Put the penlight there, please?”
He did as she asked. At first, he saw old wood. Scratched from the time the building had been built over its old foundations, ragged from chisels and tools, chipped and splintering. There were scratches on it, but moving closer, he thought Kylie might be right. There were deeper scratches in one little area right above the point where the head of the murdered woman had lain. They formed strange crescents, like half-moons, one next to the other.
“What do you think that means?” Kylie asked.
“I don’t know,” Jon said, pulling out his phone to snap some pictures of the etched marks. “But I do believe you’re right. The marks are recent, certainly. Most likely put there by the same person who, apparently, knew about the wall and the skeleton and thought he’d add to it. I’m sending the images to your email. Download them and see what you can find.”