A Night in the Old Dark House - Part Three

     The farm boy’s head was swimming.  He only barely listened as Minnie gave him the option of taking a room or sitting up all night in the library. Being an avid reader, he selected the library without giving it any thought.

     After Mrs. Hitt’s departure, Oliver took a few minutes to calm himself and gather his thoughts. Upon reflection, he was grateful for his decision to stay in the library. Had he taken a bedroom, he would have been all the more miserable. He knew that sleep had no chance of coming. At least the library was cozy and he could find much to keep his mind occupied. Unfortunately, the walls of glorious leather-bound volumes that would normally have enchanted him failed to hold his distracted mind. He needed a few more minutes to take stock of the situation.

     He planted himself in a high wing chair in front of the fireplace and pondered. The greed of all the other guests seemed evident and sadly understandable. Oddly, it only occurred to him much later that as a guest in the house, he would also have a share in old Frank’s assets. It was somewhat disturbing to find evidence that Frank had questionable business dealings and appeared to be a serious womanizer. From what Oliver had experienced, Frank seemed to have been an affable old gentleman.  Sure, Oliver was aware of the rumors that still lingered after Frank was shot and nearly killed by another man for offering that man’s young wife a ride in his buggy.

  

     

     And then there was Mrs. Hitt. Oliver had always admired her. As an unusual, yet, successful banker woman, she had been instrumental in saving the family farm when she showed confidence in the hard-working Haroldsen boys’ ability to pay off their debt. However, Oliver was now questioning that good woman’s mental state. Her quip about a “little joke” sent a chill through him as he considered the implications.

     Having little idea just what he should do, he wandered the library, stopping at one of the windows. The storm only seemed to be building. Thick rain blasted the window, which strobed to the flash of lightning. The clash of thunder and the shriek of the high wind was bringing on a major headache. He scanned the book shelves but could not get himself interested in anything.

     He gradually recognized a new urgency. Just where was the water closet? It had been far from his thoughts earlier, and Minnie had said nothing about it. He found the thought disturbing to wander a stranger’s house after midnight, but nature is a demanding lord.

     Having been successful in finding the smallest room in the house, Oliver inadvertently ended up in the kitchen. Wow! Huge cheeses wheels, smoked meats, and an astonishing number of cakes filled every shelf. For the first time that evening, he truly was distracted. He was almost hungry and briefly considered having a late-night snack. But remembered that he was only a guest, and such behavior would be inappropriate. Though, maybe helping himself to a glass of milk would be acceptable, and might even help calm him. He opened the ice box to see if any was available.

     A girl’s severed head stared out at him. Oliver fell backwards and let out the first scream of his life. He heard a second scream that joined his own from farther away. The house came alive with shouts and the pound of feet down the staircase. When Minnie entered the kitchen, he could only gesture towards the nightmare that he had seen. “Yes, its Angeline,” she pronounced. “Celeste just saw the rest of her upstairs.” She then muttered, “All is moving along according to plan.” 

     “No!” Oliver thought, “Not Mrs. Hitt. She couldn’t; she wouldn’t do that.” Yet, the oddest thing that suddenly hit him was that he could almost swear that as he looked away, Angeline’s head had winked at him.

     Oliver was barely aware of what was happening all around him. After discovering the telephone line was dead, one of the lawyers opened the front door to seek the authorities only to be blasted back in the house by the wind and clawing rain. The four remaining young women stood in pairs, hugging each other for comfort. The other men gathered in a huddle, conversing in evident agitation. Minnie stood at the fireplace, observing the scene. The grandfather clock chimed one o’clock.

     What a painfully long night. Oliver wished for the hands of the clock to move faster. Because the storm masked any sound of ticking, the movement of the pendulum was the only proof that time had not stopped.

     Evidently, everyone had gone back to their own rooms after Mrs. Hitt covered the body. She stated that the head might just as well stay in its place of cool preservation. How could anyone sleep? Yet, Oliver did. He awoke to the chime of two o’clock. It was cold. The fire had gone out. There was only a little light cast by the oil lamp.

     The cold of the room and his unnatural sleeping position in the chair made Oliver’s whole body ache. He didn’t know where his coat had been put, so he scanned the room for a blanket. Nothing. Well, he was no stranger in making a fire. He could have done it in his sleep, and he wished that he had done so. Still, there was a stack of wood in the corner. Perhaps he could get it going by using some residual coals.

     A girl’s legs dangled down from inside the chimney. There it was, his second scream. The voices and approaching footsteps returned to witness the second crime of the evening. In those seconds before the first person arrived, he saw the dangling legs do a happy, mid-air jig and then go still.

     “It’s Celeste,” Minnie announced gravely. “She is quite cold and dead.” The two lawyers moved forward. One asked, “Are you sure?” Mr. Hitt nodded her head quickly, indicating her conviction. “Well, we have got to get her down,” said the other lawyer. “And you call yourself a lawyer,” asked Minnie. “Wouldn’t that be tampering with the evidence?” The lawyers stopped in midstride towards the darkened fireplace. Vulgar though it was, the body must remain.

     “I imagine you would rather not stay in here,” said Mrs. Hitt to her young guest. Oliver gave an emphatic headshake. “How about the dinning room?” she asked. Anyplace was better than this, but after everyone else filtered away, it struck him that he now resided between the library and the kitchen, between to murdered girls. “And they were so beautiful,” he thought. Yet he lingered on the surviving member of the trio that had greeted him at the door. After the second death, the men and the other two girls clustered together in fearful conversation. They stole occasional glances towards Minnie, Oliver, and the other girl, who stood isolated in the shadows.

     Oliver wanted out of this house so badly. After everyone else had gone again, he swore to the best of his limited skill in profanity: “Hang this storm!” He wanted the police here and himself out. His own bed, miles away, called his name in mourning. Perhaps he would be there soon, laid out in his best clothing with carnations and roses placed artfully on his chest. He sat at the dining room table, leaned forward, and rested his head on his crossed arms. He slept.

     The three gongs of the grandfather clock chime woke him. He hadn’t expected to be able to hear it from inside the dinning room. He realized that the storm was dying down. Halleluiah! He was stiff again, but hopeful at the prospect of being able to get the authorities, and the coroner. He paused to listen to an unfamiliar sound. Another chime, somewhere far away? He strained to hear it again to identify the source. There it was. It was above him. He looked up to see a beautiful girl twined through the crystal chandelier. Her head was twisted at an unnatural angle.

     He didn’t scream this time. He had used up his lifetime supply. He didn’t even move for the longest time. There was still a little movement, which caused the cut class ornaments to give a tinkling sound. Though the angle of the head was repulsive, Oliver saw a small twitch at the corners of her mouth, such as those that happen when a person is trying to suppress amusement on a serious occasion, such as death.

     Oliver backed out of the room and managed on his second attempt to draw enough moisture to his mouth to make his shout audible. Minnie stepped from her ground-floor room, fully dressed. The others came down the stairs as well. Unlike the last times, they too were fully dressed in their daytime clothing. Oliver pointed in the direction of the dinning room. None of the other guests seemed interested to see the third tragedy. Minnie briefly popped her head through the door and announced, “Yes, I’m afraid it is our pretty little friend, Divina.”

     “That’s it, I am out of here!” shouted Dolores. “Mara, are you coming?” she asked the other young woman. Wide-eyed, Mara nodded as she was already backing towards the front door.

     “If you leave,” announced Mrs. Hitt, “You get nothing from my Frank.” Her words did not slow the exit of the last two girls. The old partner spoke next, “I believe we can now go for the authorities,” he stammered. “The storm seems to have passed.” The two lawyers concurred and gave evidence that it would take all three men to retrieve the police.

     “And what about your claims to a share of Frank’s estate?” inquired Minnie. A look of greed returned briefly to each face, only to be replaced by terror. They glanced at Mrs. Hitt and then gazed at Oliver. They departed into the drippy darkness.

     It only just dawned on Oliver, that he had been the one to find each body, well at least a head in one case. They suspected him! But then it occurred to him that he was likely standing next to a murderer; he was alone with a murderer. “How had she done it? Yet, how could she place a dead girl in a chandelier while he slept underneath?” Nothing made sense.

    “Come into my parlor,” said Minnie with much pleasure. “Come,” she said when he did not move. “I don’t bite.” Oliver seemed unable to resist her invitation.

     “So, this is what it is like to be a fly,” he thought. “How does the old saying go about the spider’s parlor?”

     He had not been in the parlor before. The focal point was a grand portrait of Frank Hitt over a pleasant, glowing fireplace. Mrs. Hitt gazed up at it for a moment then turned to address Oliver. “So, it comes down to you and me; well you, me, and a few other visitors.” She was looking at something or someone behind him. He whirled around. The three dead girls stood in the doorway. “Thank you all. It has been a marvelous evening. We must do it again.” She smiled, “Good bye.” All three faded to nothing.

     Thoughtfully, Mrs. Hitt waited for Oliver to regain his equilibrium in the face of these latest events. Finally, he asked, “Who are they?”

     “Well, to partially quote Charles Dickens, you might do better to ask who were they? Let’s just say that they are some of my old friends, now eternally young.” She smiled. “Girls who enjoy having an occasional evening of tricks and fun.”

     Oliver slumped onto a chair. “I don’t understand any of this,” he said in confusion.

     Mrs. Hitt moved towards Oliver and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I have misused you a bit this evening. I am sorry about that part.” She sat down in a chair across from the young man. “I knew that because of Frank’s wealth and . . . reputation, parasites would certainly emerge to get as much of his money as possible. I knew about the men. They would certainly forge some documents that would challenge Frank’s will, and I suspected that there would be some women, young women.” She looked up at the portrait. “Oh yes, my Frank was something of a womanizer, though I doubt he would have been able to hold the loyalties of five young beauties at once. Well, he wasn’t quite that charming.”

     Minnie sighed. “And in spite of his reputation, I believe he was faithful to me once we were married. Isn’t that so Frank?” The painting over the mantle flamed up in green tones. Frank smiled, and then faded back to his normal, dignified countenance.

     None of this was very helpful. Oliver was still bewildered, yet in new ways. He looked into Mrs. Hitt’s eyes. “Why me? What does any of this,” he pointed at the portrait and then the doorway, “what does any of this have to do with me?”

     Minnie smiled kindly at him. “You, my friend, are the one young man that I was confident would always remain a gentleman; someone who could be trusted to do his duty, no matter the circumstances or no matter how beautiful the girl. Think,” she asked, “what would have happened if one of those wolves had actually touched one of my girls? The game would have been up.”

     “After our three little pranks, I was convinced that all would give up any claims on Frank’s fortune. And you see, Voila', they are all gone.” She gazed harder at Oliver. “And what about your claim on Frank’s fortune? It is getting closer to dawn. I think you have a pretty good chance of surviving.”

     Oliver stood in alarm. "No, I have no claims on anything. Even if I did, my mother would beat me for accepting anything. You know her!"

     Minnie smiled. "Your mother and I knew you would say that, wel, not that last bit. Yet I do have a gift for you in parting, which your mother knows about, so relax." She pulled from thin air a a small chest. "Take it. Please. It would make me very happy." She shoved the box into his trembling hands. "tonight, you witnessed three women of virtue and two of deceit. A woman of honor, faith, and love is a treasure. Now, go find your own."

     Oliver did not open the chest until late the following night. Though weary, he could resist no longer. In lifting the lid, he saw an enormous, perfect pearl cushioned in black velvet. It was a full three years later that he found his real treasure: Miss Celecta Mignonette Ottley. He then sold the pearl for $5,000, which was the exact price to purchase a home for his treasured new bride.