The Murders at Astaire Castle (A Mac Faraday Mystery) (4 page)

“Allow me some comfort when it comes to what I put inside my body.” Mac picked up his fork and poked the chicken as if he feared it would attack him.

While Jeff was horrified by the chef’s joke played on their boss, Hector couldn’t stop chuckling. “You should have seen your face when you saw that octopus.”

“Just when I think Iman has topped himself …” Mac smiled at the prank played on him.

Jeff brought them back to their previous topic of discussion. “Well, I strongly recommend that you forget all about that castle.”

“I think I have a right to know about it,” Mac said, “considering that I’m paying the property taxes on it. How much property tax is there on a castle?”

“More than on a manor house on Spencer Point,” Archie said.

“You haven’t heard about the best part,” Hector said.

“Only you would call it the best part.” To convey his displeasure, Jeff shifted in the seat in the booth to turn his back to the security chief sitting next to him.

“What’s the best part?” Mac asked. “Don’t tell me. The gateway to hell is in the basement?”

While Archie and Hector laughed at the quip, Jeff grumbled.

“Have you ever heard of Damian Wagner?” Hector asked Mac.

“Who hasn’t?” Mac replied. “I’ve read all of his books.”

“You’ve read all of Damian Wagner’s books but not your mother’s?” Almost dropping her fork, Archie shot a glare at him from where he was sitting next to her.

“I’ve been reading Damian Wagner since I was in high school,” Mac said. “Robin wrote mysteries. Damian Wagner’s books are really scary horror masterpieces—keep you up all night, unable to sleep, type of scary. Really bizarre.”

“Like the author himself,” Jeff said.

“Then you know Damian Wagner did not end well,” Hector told Mac.

“He disappeared,” Mac said. “I seem to recall—”

“His daughter and editor were killed—hacked to death, dismembered, and set on fire,” Hector said in a sullen tone. “Damian Wagner disappeared. Some say the killer, or the Wolf Man, got him. But his body was never found. Others say he did it himself and is living abroad under another identity. No one knows. Thing is, he spent four months living at the Astaire Castle, which Robin had bought for a song.”

“She felt sorry for him,” Jeff said.

“Why would Robin feel sorry for such a big name as Damian Wagner?” Mac asked.

“Damian Wagner had written over two dozen books,” Hector said, “all big, best sellers going straight to the New York Times list and blockbuster movies. Besides being a big time author with a huge following, he was also a drunk and heavy into drugs. In 1990, he got into a car accident. His wife was killed. His daughter was in the back seat, but not badly hurt. Damian was driving drunk. His wife’s family sued for custody of the daughter. He gave her up and they took her to Canada. That was where her mother’s family was from. Damian went into rehab and got sober.” He added in a sad note, “Only problem was, he couldn’t write while sober.”

Mac recalled, “That’s right. His main character, Hagar, hunted all of these creatures, zombies and aliens and werewolves and vampires. But he was after this one alpha werewolf, Santos, who had turned Hagar’s sister into a werewolf, forcing Hagar to kill her.”

“The final showdown between Hagar and Santos was to be his last book,” Hector said, “but Damian couldn’t write it and was about to lose his contract with his publisher. He had the general outline done when he was in the car accident, but—After he had spent ten years with writer’s block, Robin thought that if he had the right setting, the castle, that he might be inspired to write it. So she offered to let him stay there during the summer of 2002.”

Archie interrupted, “You said his daughter was murdered?”

“Right before he came here, his daughter came back,” Hector said. “She was twenty-two, had graduated from college, and came to live with him to help him write his book.”

“You know,” Jeff said with a shake of his finger, “now that I think about it—David knew her, too.” He told Mac, “I never realized that. David was friends with Riley Adams; plus, if I remember correctly, he had a fling with Damian Wagner’s daughter, Genevieve.”

“A fling?” Archie asked. “Are you sure?”

Hector was nodding his head. “I remember that, too. The swimming pool at the castle was closed up. It had been for a few years and it was too expensive to repair it for just one season. So Genevieve came over to use the Inn’s pool and would hang out at the outdoor lounge. David was home on leave after his first tour overseas, and I remember seeing them together. From what I saw, they were hot and heavy.”

“But David was back out on his next tour when they were killed,” Jeff said.

“Damian also brought his editor along to stay at the castle with them,” Hector said. “That Halloween, Damian either went berserk or someone broke in—the next day, when the housekeeper went to clean the castle, she found a fire in the pit on the back patio and body parts in it.”

“And Damian Wagner was gone,” Mac mused. “And his book—”

“Some speculate that he went mad trying to break through his writer’s block and he never did write it,” Hector said.

“Robin said that he had told her that his book was done,” Jeff insisted.

“I think he was lying,” Hector said. “Because if Damian Wagner had written that last book, with the final showdown between Hagar and Santos, then there’s no way he would have stayed hidden this long. That book would have been published somehow. As many people were waiting to read it—it was a gold mine—no way could he sit on it.”

“Unless he preferred poverty to going to jail for murder.” Mac washed down his last bite of the chicken with the wine before asking, “All right, you told me about the murders in the castle, a long string of bad karma, but what about the haunting part?”

“After the murders in 1950,” Hector said, “the castle sat abandoned for over thirty years. When Robin returned to Spencer, after becoming a famous author, she decided to have it renovated and turned into a luxury bed and breakfast—an American castle in the country.”

“She sank over a million dollars into updating the electric and plumbing,” Jeff said. “Not to mention the décor.”

“A haunted American castle,” Archie said.

“It was a disaster,” Jeff said.

Hector explained, “You see, up until then, anyone who lived or stayed there died. Kids, young people, used to say things, but everyone dismissed it as stories to scare each other. When Robin opened up the castle, and paying customers were staying there—”

“And came running back here demanding their money back,” Jeff said.

“There were people who got off on staying in a haunted castle,” Hector said, “but even some of them came back here with only the clothes on their backs. Most of them refused to go back inside that castle for their things. They just wanted out.”

“What kind of things were they saying?” Mac asked.

“The sounds of parties on the main level in the middle of the night,” Hector said, “or they’d see a couple holding hands, standing on the stone railing and then jumping into thin air.”

“The sound of a couple laughing and playing tennis on the court when no one was there,” Jeff said.

“Then, there’s the Wolf Man,” Hector reminded Jeff. “Remember that couple who said he chased them all the way down the upstairs hallway and out the front door.” He turned to Mac. “That was before Riley Adams disappeared, by the way.”

“Robin stopped trying to rent the place out,” Jeff said with a shudder. “But then, it was a few years later, she said Damian Wagner was going to move in and stay there. She thought with him being into that type of thing, that he could handle the castle’s peculiarity.” He frowned, “Obviously, he couldn’t, which proved to be bad news for his daughter and his editor.”

Chapter Three

Next Morning – Spencer Manor

In the heart of Maryland, the cedar and stone home known as Spencer Manor rested at the end of the most expensive piece of real estate in the resort area of Deep Creek Lake. The peninsula, known as Spencer Point, housed a half-dozen lake houses that grew in size and grandeur along the stretch of Spencer Court. The road ended at the stone pillars marking the multi-million dollar estate that was the birthplace and home of the late Robin Spencer.

In her will, Robin Spencer had stipulated that her research assistant and editor, Archie Monday, was permitted to live in the stone guest cottage tucked away in the rose garden for as long as she wanted.

The beautiful green-eyed blonde had come with the house and Mac Faraday had been in no hurry for her to move out, unless it was to relocate to the master suite in the main house. Now, Archie having done that very thing, the stone cottage was being renovated to reflect the masculine nature of its new occupant, David O’Callaghan, Mac’s half-brother by their late father, Patrick O’Callaghan.

David’s mother had recently been sent to live in the nursing home. While the rundown home where he had grown up was being revamped to put on the depressed housing market, David was making his home at Spencer Manor.

It felt like Indian summer. The morning sun was warming the Point to brighten up what had been a dreary fall. While playing a game of fetch with Gnarly, Mac was thinking about removing his jacket when David drove his police cruiser through the stone entrance and around the circular drive to park it in the six-car garage.

When Mac paused in throwing the ball, Gnarly jumped up on him and barked as if to demand he continue playing. His master obliged. “Did you see Finnegan off?” Mac called over to David when he came out of the garage.

“She’s on her way to Quantico as we speak.” David urged Gnarly to bring the ball to him for a round of fetch.

Mac searched David’s face for a sign of emotion, in particular remorse over the possible demise of his relationship with the former U.S. Marshal. “How are you doing?”

David threw the ball across the yard to send it over the flower bed and roll down toward the lake. Gnarly gave chase. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well … I kind of thought you cared about Randi.”

“I do care about her,” David said. “I’m also realistic about getting involved with women like her, and Katrina and Yvonne, and all the rest of them—women passing through Spencer on their way to the next chapter in their lives. I cared about every one of them. Maybe even loved some of them—but I’ve learned that the likelihood of any of them giving up their dreams of seeing the world to be a small town police chief’s wife is nil.” With a shrug, he tossed the ball that Gnarly was pawing at him to throw. “So I just suck it up when they say it’s been fun and I hope we can still be friends. No hard feelings? Sure, no hard feelings.”

Mac took the ball when Gnarly brought it back to him. “That’s no way to have a love life.” He tossed it to David.

“Of course, you’d say that.” David caught the ball. “You’ve got the perfect woman.”

Mac laughed. “Don’t tell her that. It’ll go to her head.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” David said. “I can’t expect Randi to put her romantic life on hold in hopes of the unlikely possibility that she’ll be assigned back here.” He threw the ball back to Mac. Before Mac could catch it, Gnarly intercepted the ball and ran off into the bushes with it.

“I’m going in to get some sleep,” David said. “What are you and Archie doing today?”

He was turning around to take the stone walkway around to the rose garden when Mac answered, “Hector’s taking us up to Astaire Castle.”

David stood up straight. His shoulders tensed. He turned back around to Mac. The only time Mac had seen that expression on his face was when the police chief was directing it at suspects whose cocky demeanor had pushed him over the edge. “Tell me that’s a joke.”

With his ball clamped in his jaws, Gnarly jumped up onto the porch and scurried under a chaise.

“No,” Mac replied, “Hector should be here any minute. Archie’s inside getting ready.”

“You’re taking her with you?” David stepped in so close that Mac could feel the heat of his breath on his face. “Listen, if you want to do something stupid, do it alone. Don’t be dragging Archie in on it with you.”

Mac stood up tall to push David back with his own forceful demeanor. “I’m not dragging anyone. Archie wants to go. Turns out Robin never told her about the castle either. We want to see it. Forgive us for being curious. It isn’t every man who owns a castle. If it was—”

“Did it ever occur to you that no one told you about the castle for a reason?” David’s face screwed up with emotion. “This is all a game to you! A joke! Well, it’s not some scare each other and scream and laugh later type of fun house. Real people, nice people, people with hopes and dreams for the future have disappeared up there. Damian Wagner lost his mind and killed two innocent people—and then he disappeared. Robin had the good sense, and was responsible enough, to order that the castle be shut down—the doors locked and allow no one else near it again. She wouldn’t even sell it—and she had lots of offers, but she knew that as long as she owned it, she could protect anyone else from getting hurt.”

Mac was gazing at David’s face. He tried to recall any other time that he had seen such earnestness in his face.
Riley Adams was at the party—David’s party. Of course, he would feel responsible for his friend’s disappearance. Not to mention Genevieve—Damian’s daughter. How close was he to her?

“I’m ready to go!” Archie trotted down the porch steps and crossed the driveway to join them. For the outing in the abandoned, and most likely filthy, castle, she was dressed in worn jeans and a sweater under a jean jacket. She had put on leather gloves with a matching cap.

Seeing his favorite lady, Gnarly ran to escort her to them.

David whirled around and grasped Mac by the arm. “Listen to me.” His fingers dug into his bicep. “If you truly love and care about Archie, don’t let her go with you. Order her to stay here.”

“I can’t order Archie to do or not to do anything,” Mac hissed back at him.

“What are you two talking about?” When she saw David glaring at Mac, she planted her hands on her hips. “Are you threatening to shoot Mac again?”

“Still.” David didn’t take his eyes off him.

“What’s going on?” Archie asked Mac.

“David doesn’t think you should go up to the castle.”

She laughed.

“I’m inclined to agree with him,” Mac said in a quiet voice.

Now it was Archie’s turn to glare at him. “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”

“I don’t.”

“Then we have nothing to be worried about.”

“Do you believe in evil?” David asked them. “Damian Wagner wasn’t a monster until he lived up there inside those castle walls. Then, evil consumed him and he did a really horrible thing. That’s why I’m begging you two not to go up there—or—at the very least, Archie, you stay here and let Mac, if he insists on going, check it out first.”

Archie regarded David before turning to Mac for his reaction. Seeing that he was considering it, she said, “You can’t order me—”

“I can tell Hector not to let you in the jeep,” Mac said.

She turned to David. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Thanks a lot, David.” She whacked him in the arm with all her might, before storming back into the house. The force of her blow was so hard that in spite of his effort, David stumbled and grabbed his arm.

Mac waited for the echo of the slamming door to stop ringing in his ears before he asked David, “Are you going to tell me what you experienced up there? What happened to your friend Riley?”

“There are two theories going around,” David said. “Some of my friends who were there that night believe he was possessed by Nigel’s ghost, that’s the dog that disappeared after the Hindman murders in 1950.” David paused. “They say that because Riley came to the party dressed as the Wolf Man. Others say he’s dead and his ghost, still in the character of the Wolf Man, is up there on that side of the mountain.”

“What about Damian Wagner?” Mac asked.

David said, “I wasn’t involved in that investigation.”

“But you did know Genevieve Wagner.”

“Is there a list of my sexual conquests published somewhere?” David asked.

“I’ve been hearing that it’s quite a list,” Mac said. “I’m beginning to think that you’ve developed a bad habit.”

“You’re just now beginning to think that?” David replied. “Yes, I did know Genie Wagner in the biblical sense, but it was a fling. I was home on leave for a couple of months after my first tour to Afghanistan. She was hanging out at the pool at the Inn. We got together like two ships passing in the night and going in opposite directions. When her father was through with his book, she was moving to California. I was back at Quantico the Tuesday after Labor Day.”

“Was she afraid of what was going on in the castle?”

David slowly shook her head. “She was afraid for her father. That summer was his last chance to write his book. The publisher had advanced him another one hundred thousand dollars on top of his original advance. If he didn’t get the book written by the end of the year, he was going to have to pay it all back to the publisher, and he didn’t have it. She told me that she was afraid of what he would do if he didn’t get over his writer’s block.”

“Desperation,” Mac said. “It’s driven more than one man to kill.”

“Desperation mixed liberally with evil,” David said. “Listen, Mac. If you insist on going up there, then I can’t say anything to stop you, but I can tell you this, I can’t protect you when you’re up there.”

The two men paused to watch Hector pull in through the gate in his beat up four-wheel drive jeep, which was built for rough riding across the mountain terrain.

“I’m not asking you to,” Mac said.

They had passed the Spencer Inn resort and continued until they had run out of smooth road. Trees gave way to boulders, which formed a natural gateway to the south side of Spencer Mountain.

Hector announced what Mac had already observed, “We’re being followed.”

Mac’s eyes narrowed while he studied the black police chief’s cruiser marked with gold trim. “Is he escorting us or trying to stop us?”

“You’re the boss,” Hector said. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Pull over. Let’s ask him.”

Hector pulled the jeep over to the side of the road.

Recognizing the cruiser, Gnarly stood up in his seat in the back and wagged his tail, which, in the tight confines of the jeep, beat Hector along the side of his bald head.

Mac climbed out of the passenger seat of the jeep and met David along the road between the two vehicles. “I thought you said you couldn’t protect me.” Mac noted that David was wearing his utility belt, complete with his gun, radio, and baton.

“Well,” David drawled, “even if I can’t, it’s my job to at least try. I assume you brought your gun, and Hector has his.”

“Always,” Hector called back from the front seat of the jeep.

Gnarly barked as if to give his answer. His weapon was the hundreds of pounds of force built into his jaws.

“Follow me,” David ordered before climbing back into his cruiser, which had four-wheel drive to take them across the rough terrain. He led them deep into the rustic area filled with trees sprouting up out of boulders and brush. The paved road dissolved into broken slabs of cement with deep ruts in between the slabs. In some places, the road was so rocky that it was smoother for the vehicles to go off the road and plow through the five-foot tall brush that lined the trail.

Concluding that there couldn’t be anything worth seeing this deep into the wilderness, Mac was starting to regret his decision when they broke through the brush to come up to a stone wall with a thick wooden gate that blocked their access to the other side. It was locked shut with a rusty thick chain and padlock.

Hector picked up a large key from the center console of the jeep and a pair of bolt cutters from the floor in the back. “Just in case,” he said while showing the bolt cutters to Mac.

Staring straight ahead, David remained behind the wheel of the cruiser to wait for Hector to open the gate. As the security guard had predicted, the lock was rusted shut, so he broke the chain with the bolt cutters. With great effort, he pushed the heavy gate back off the road to allow enough room for the cruiser and jeep to make their way through.

“Oh, wow,” Mac muttered upon the sight.

It was like something he had only seen in movies. A big old rundown castle rose up from the stony landscape. Only sky was visible from the front. In the back, the valley stretched out below.

Hector had been correct. The castle wasn’t noticeable from the valley floor. The walls, built into the edge of the mountaintop, had been constructed of stone. It was further camouflaged by vines that had grown up to engulf and kill off the trees. The centerpiece of the circular driveway was a fountain, covered with green mold, with a statue of two winged nymphs holding a giant urn between them.

Cracked and broken steps led up from the edge of the driveway to the main doors, which were caked with dirt and grime. Off to the other side of the driveway was a separate building, a four-car garage that appeared to have a second floor.

Speechless with awe, Mac turned around in a full circle to take in the sight. He had never expected there to be anything like this on the other side of the brush that he and David had been traveling in the day before. Imagining what the castle would have been like in its heyday, he could see that Reginald Astaire had created a whole world separate from the rest of Deep Creek Lake.

“Well, we’re here.” Hector produced a key ring filled with keys from his jacket pocket. “Do you want to go inside to meet the Wolf Man?” he asked with a mockingly evil laugh that reminded Mac of Vincent Price, a popular horror movie actor from back in the 1940s and 50s. Certain of Mac’s answer, he climbed the steps to the main door.

“That’s not funny, Hector.” David had his arms folded tightly across his chest.