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Maybelle's Secret
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Maybelle’s Secret
A Finders Mansion Mystery Novella
The Further Adventures of Mary O’Reilly
by
Terri Reid
Maybelle’s Secret
A Finders Mansion Mystery Novella
by Terri Reid
Copyright © 2018 by Terri Reid
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
The author would like to thank all those who have contributed to the creation of this book: Richard Reid, Sarah Reid, Camille McDaris, Peggy Hannah, Mickey Claus, and Terrie Snyder. And especially to the wonderful readers who are starting this whole new adventure with me, thank you all!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter One
Mary O’Reilly Alden woke up from a deep sleep and took a moment trying to remember where she was. She and Bradley had been married for almost a year. They had met when she was working on an investigation in Freeport. As a private investigator who could see ghosts, Police Chief Bradley Alden thought she was crazy. But he soon realized that not only was Mary not insane, but she was also a talented and dedicated private investigator. Falling in love with her came quickly after that.
Now, she had a new baby, and her unique skill of being able to see and talk with ghosts had been taken away from her for a while.
Then she heard a repeat of the sound that she was sure had awakened her. The soft mewling sounds of her six-week-old son, Mikey, beginning to wake up. She lifted her head from her pillow and looked over at her husband. His hair was hanging over his forehead, his mouth was slightly open, and he was face-planted into the folds of his pillow. She hated to wake him, but he had been so insistent about taking his turn to change Mikey's diaper in the middle of the night.
“Bradley,” she whispered.
“Ummm,” he replied, not moving.
“It’s time to change Mikey,” she said.
He nodded his head, burying deeper into the pillow and continued to sleep.
“Would you like me just to handle it?” she asked with a grin.
“No,” he rasped, his eyes still closed. “No. You sleep. I can do it.”
She watched him for another minute as he continued to sleep and smiled. “Thank you, darling,” she said, slipping out of bed. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he murmured and then continued softly snoring.
Mary padded across the room to the bassinet and looked down at her sleepy cherub. She still had a hard time believing that this perfect baby was hers. She watched as he screwed up his tiny face and complained softly again.
“Are you wet and hungry?” she asked softly, stroking his downy-soft skin. “Well, let’s see what mommy can do about that.”
She scooped him up in her arms and carried him over to the changing table. As she unwrapped his receiving blanket and unsnapped his onesie, Mike appeared across from her, yawning widely. Mike was a former firefighter and one of the ghosts Mary had helped. He ended up passing over and then coming back as the guardian angel that had been assigned to watch over Mikey.
“Doesn’t this kid ever sleep?” he asked.
She grinned at him. “Sure, whenever I’m awake,” she said. “And as soon as I try to sleep he wakes up.”
He leaned against the wall. “Who would have known that babies were so much work?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve slept through the night since he’s been home.”
“I didn’t think angels slept,” Mary mused as she cleaned Mikey.
“Well, yeah, we don’t like that spread around,” he replied. “It messes up our image.”
With a fresh diaper in place and his clothes refastened, Mary wrapped Mikey back up in the receiving blanket. "Time for dinner," she said to Mikey and walked to the small loveseat in the corner of the room.
“I’ll get you some water, while you get yourself adjusted,” Mike said. “There’s something I want to talk with you about.”
Mike disappeared, and Mary cuddled into the corner of the chair, slipping the shoulder of her nightgown down, so Mikey could nurse. She pulled the comforter from the other edge of the chair over both of them and relaxed while Mikey ate hungrily.
Mike appeared a moment later, handed Mary a bottle of water and then took his usual position sitting out of the line of sight.
"I'm covered up," she said to him.
He continued to look in the other direction. “Yeah, I know. And I know it’s natural and beautiful and all that. But since Mikey’s in your bedroom, and we had to change the rules about bedroom visits, I figure the more privacy I can give you, the better.”
“Well, that’s nice of you,” she said. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“How’s your life, Mary?” he asked.
Mary was surprised. “My life is great,” she replied. “I’m married to the man I love. I have a wonderful daughter and a perfect angel baby. My house is totally organized and immaculate. I don’t have any undone projects…”
“So, you’re bored to death,” he said.
She choked back her laughter. “Yes. Yes, I am. I’m bored, and I want a new adventure,” she replied.
Mike chuckled. “Be careful what you wish for,” he replied.
“I know, right?!?!” she said, then she paused and thought about her response for a moment. Shaking her head, she tried to explain her feelings. “It’s not that I don’t realize how blessed I am and it’s not that I’m not grateful. But, Mikey’s sleeping longer now, and I’m not used to staying home all day…”
“And you miss your gift?” Mike asked.
“I really do,” she replied. “But, it’s weird.”
“What?” he asked, turning towards her a little.
“Sometimes I feel like I still have it,” she said.
He thought about it for a moment. “Well, okay, that’s not too surprising,” he admitted.
“It’s not?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, when you get spiritual gifts, and then you incorpor
ate them into your life, they become a part of you,” he said. “You’ve always been sensitive, the gift just tuned that ability in, but since you’ve been using it, you have probably increased your natural ability.”
“Well, that’s good news,” she said with a relieved sigh. “I thought I was seeing things.”
“What did you see?”
“You know the house across the street, the old Victorian that has been for sale for at least a year?”
“Yeah, creepy and charming all mashed together?” he asked.
She laughed. “Exactly,” she said. “Whenever I’m outside and look over there, I swear I can see the woman who used to live there in the window beckoning me over to her.”
Mike paused for a moment and then smiled. “So, Mary O’ Reilly Alden, now that you know you’re not nuts, what are you going to do tomorrow?”
She grinned, glanced over at the still-sleeping Bradley, and lowered her voice. “I think I’m going to check out a creepy and charming Victorian home.”
Chapter Two
Mary put Mikey down in his swing in the living room and then went back into the kitchen for her teacup. Retrieving it, she sat down on the couch and waited for Bradley to come downstairs.
She took a sip of tea and slowly looked around her living room. A lot had changed since she’d moved into the little house several years earlier as a single woman looking to make a new start for herself. Even though she already cleaned and organized the closet by the front door, it was still overflowing with coats, boots, sports equipment and now, baby supplies. She glanced across the room. The counter between the living room and the kitchen held school supplies, upright folders filled with essential information, her laptop and Bradley’s paperwork. She had moved all of the furniture from her downtown office to the extra bedroom, so now, once Mikey moved into his room, they wouldn't have a guest room.
“What are you thinking about?” Bradley asked, straightening his tie as he walked down the final few steps.
She smiled. “You don’t want to know,” she said.
He studied her. “Do you want to rearrange the room again?” he asked.
“That’s totally unfair,” she replied. “I only rearranged it once.”
“Twice,” he countered.
She thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Okay, twice,” she agreed.
“But you had me move the couch six times,” he added, sitting down next to her.
She reached over and ran her hand up his bicep. “I just love to watch you do manly things,” she teased.
He leaned over and kissed her. “So, this manly husband of yours wants to know what you are thinking about, or I’m going to be worried all day.”
"I think that we might need to move," she replied and watched his jaw drop.
“Move?” he asked, astonished. “Move? But, Mary, we love this place.”
He stood up and walked around the room. “Here, right here,” he said pointing to the basement door. “Is where I met Earl and realized that you weren’t totally crazy.”
“Thank you very much,” she replied dryly.
"And right there," he said. "Well, about six inches to the left is where the recliner used to be and where I first spent the night after you walked into the fort."
“It wasn’t my fault,” she said, hiding a smile. “It wasn’t there at the time.”
“And right here,” he said, his voice softer and wistful, as he walked over to the kitchen counter. “Is where I first kissed you, on Christmas Eve.”
She put her tea down on the coffee table and walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and then reached up on tiptoes to kiss him again. “You still curl my toes, Bradley Alden,” she said, slowly breaking the kiss. “Just like the first time.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “You never told me that I curled your toes.”
She grinned up at him. “Well, I didn’t want to inflate your ego,” she teased.
He kissed her softly, taking his time to taste, tease and explore. “How was that?” he whispered against her lips.
She moaned softly. “You’ve still got it,” she whispered. “But I’m not that distracted. We still need to talk about moving.”
He leaned down, placing his head on hers and sighed. “I really do love this place,” he said. “I love having the Brennans as neighbors. I love how close we are to the parks and to work. I love that we have a tiny lawn, so it only takes me fifteen minutes to mow it.”
She chuckled. “But when you and Mikey start throwing around the football, you’re going to need a bigger space,” she said. “And what about the dog?”
He pulled back, his eyes wide, and looked down at her. “What dog?”
“Well, Clarissa has Lucky,” she explained. “So, I thought Mikey ought to have a dog.”
“Mary, he’s only six weeks old,” he said, shaking his head.
"Well, I thought we would get the dog after we moved," she said.
He nodded. “Good idea,” he began, then he stopped. “I see what you just did there.”
She grinned and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “See, sexy and smart,” she teased. “What more could I ask for?”
Chapter Three
Mary stepped outside onto her front porch. It was a beautiful early March day with blue skies, bright sun and the temperatures in the low fifties. Mikey was snuggled up against her chest in a front pack, and she pulled her coat over both of them as she walked down the stairs and onto the sidewalk.
She looked over to the house across the street. The massive, old Victorian was probably the very first house built on the road. The sweeping, circular front porch was limestone, and the pillars were solid wood with scrollwork on them. The house was painted a dark gray and the trim, that Mary was sure used to be ivory, was now a peeling, dirty yellow. The soaring, octagonal towers were placed at either end of the home, and the tall windows looked to have their original glass. The fascia was also adorned with ornate scrollwork of garlands tied with bows above each window. It had probably been the showcase of Freeport at one time, Mary thought, but now it was just sad and lonely.
Then Mary saw her. She was standing at one of the front windows waving at Mary to get her attention. Now that she was sure it wasn’t her imagination, Mary looked closer. Yes, it was Maybelle Finders, the lovely senior citizen who had lived across the street from her during her first years in Freeport. Maybelle had been an avid gardener, and the gardens around the home had been spectacular.
Taking a deep breath, she made a decision. Nothing was frightening or dangerous about Maybelle, so she was going to find out what she needed. She paused for a moment at the curb, to look both ways, then crossed the street. The house had a wrought iron fence around it. Mary opened the gate, closed it behind her and jogged up the steps.
The front door opened before her. Mary had to admit it did cause a few jitters in her belly. She stepped inside and immediately wondered why this treasure of a house hadn't already been snapped up. The original woodwork was in pristine shape. The wood floors were solid oak and, even through the layer of dust, Mary could see they were in good repair. The plaster walls were still solid and straight, although they were painted a shocking shade of turquoise.
“My father hated that color,” Maybelle said as she appeared next to Mary in the front foyer. “Which is why I painted every single room in the house the same color.”
Mary turned to the sweet, older woman, surprised to hear such disdain in her voice. “It sounds like you and your father did not get along,” she said, with a question in her voice.
Maybelle sighed. “No, we did not,” she said. “Not when I found out his secret.”
Mary waited patiently for Maybelle to continue, but instead, the older woman changed the subject. “I had heard some rumors about you,” she said, a kindly twinkle in her eyes. “And I now know that they must be true.”
“What rumors?” Mary asked.
“That you can see ghosts,” Maybel
le replied.
Before Mary could answer, Mikey let out a squeak and Maybelle jumped back. “What in the world?” she exclaimed.
Mary opened her coat and then loosened her front pack so Maybelle could see the sleeping baby.
“Oh, my goodness,” the woman said, her face softening. “Isn’t he the most beautiful baby in the world.”
Mary smiled. “We think so,” she said.
Reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the baby to Mary, she asked,” How old is he?”
“He just turned six weeks,” Mary replied.
"Six weeks and you are out and about?" Maybelle said, shaking her head. "You women of today don't know how to take advantage of a baby's birth. In my day, we could be home and bedridden for weeks." She grinned. "I understand it was quite lovely."
“You never had children?” Mary asked.
“No, I refused to even consider perpetuating my father’s lineage,” she replied adamantly. “If cold-hearted thievery was hereditary, the world certainly didn’t need any more of that kind of person.”
“Cold-hearted thievery?” Mary asked. “What did he do?”
“Follow me,” Maybelle replied, walking towards the staircase. “And I’ll show you.”
Chapter Four
The climb up the stairs to the first floor wasn’t too bad, but when Maybelle walked down the hallway and opened up the door to the attic, Mary paused. She unconsciously wrapped her arms around Mikey and shook her head. “Maybelle, before we go any further, I need to know what I’m going to be seeing up in the attic,” she said.
Maybelle looked confused and then she laughed, a delighted joyful sound. “Oh, my dear,” she said, still laughing. “I didn’t even think about how this could have been construed. Ancient Victorian home, ghost leading the fair heroine up the stairs to the attic.”
Mary shrugged. “Well, I know you weren’t leading me up there for my demise,” she said with a smile. “But if there’s anything up there that’s toxic or dangerous in any way…”
“No. No, there’s nothing there but some file cabinets and an old safe,” she said. “Absolutely nothing that would harm your sweet baby.”