Blackvine Manor Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

upright and turns up the volume on the news report. As the reporter reads a special statement she leaps up and yanks open the door. Maxwell stumbles forward, mid-pound, and almost falls at her feet.
    “I’m sorry, Alexis. Please believe me.”
    “Shh, stop. Just listen!”
    Maxwell clenches his jaw as he hears the reporter recounting his grandfather’s illustrious career as police chief. “A career untarnished by the personal tragedy Chief Charles suffered over 50 years ago. Now the decorated police chief has solved his final and most personal case: the mysterious disappearance of his wife, Delia Charles. On the same day he received a lifetime medal of honor award from the police department, Chief Otto Charles uncovered his wife’s body. The county coroner has confirmed, through DNA testing, how Mrs. Charles was strangled by Collin Fenton. Locals will recognize that notorious name as the jewel thief who once robbed each of the city’s top families, stealing countless heirlooms that have yet to be recovered.”
    Alexis turns on Maxwell. “How would I have known she was strangled? Do you believe me now?”
    She doesn’t wait for his reply. “Fenton. My mother’s letter mentioned him. I’m one step closer to finding her. You want to help? Help me find Fenton?”

Part II

Prologue
    G EORGE CARLETON SWEEPS SILENTLY TOWARDS the laundry room door, giving himself the chills through the viewfinder of his camera. The dramatic shot is ruined when he steps on a paper cup and he hops along trying to shake it loose from his shoe.
    “Apparently the coroner drank a lot of coffee,” he says to the camera as he pans across the laundry room, wishing it looked more like a crime scene.
    A single shop light aims at the broken up floor in the corner. Rubble was taken out and placed in a pile against the far wall. Of course the coroner was a thorough and methodical excavator.
    “At least there’s dust,” George mutters as he picks up a ghostly tracking shot of footprints on the cement floor.
    He then sets up the camera on a tripod facing the corner and goes to turn off the light. As the basement room falls into darkness, he crosses his fingers and kisses them for luck.
    Hitting the record button, he starts to narrate. “Delia Charles met her fate over 50 years ago in this very room though the circumstances of her death remain a mystery to this day. Ever since her tragedy, residents here have reported paranormal activity, some even claiming to see the figure of a woman descending the stairwell. No one could explain why most of the activity centered in this laundry room until just days ago when her body was discovered here, buried under the cement floor.”
    Happy with his piece, George sits down on the floor to eat a candy bar and wait. Three hours and ten vantage points later, he gets up and packs away the camera. Back upstairs in his apartment he settles in to listen to the audio in hopes of hearing Electronic Voice Phenomenon. Slumping down lower and lower on his saggy couch, he falls asleep with the headphones still in place.
    At 3 a.m. a voice startles him awake. “Darling!”
    Scrubbing his eyes and holding on to his dream of a blue-eyed brunette, George slowly realizes what happened. In his excitement he jumps up only to be yanked painfully back down onto the saggy couch by the cord of the headphones. He recovers quickly and flails to reposition the headphones when he hears the voice again.
    “My deal!”
    The whispered excitement of the voice is not coming from the headphones and George freezes. Across the short studio, his camera on the tripod turns on with a musical beep. He watches the red flashing of the record button start as the camera turns itself and focuses out the window. His heart starts thumping so hard he puts a hand tightly over it both to muffle its sound and to keep it in his chest.
    George works up the courage to stand, trying to ignore the icy slide of fear down his spine as he slowly moves across the