Read Online Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island by Michael Phillip Cash - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Phillip Cash
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“No, ” and Paul finished with, “It’s gotta go.”
They entered the spacious entry with its black -and-white marbled floors in a beautiful two-story hall. Period furniture was placed along the white walls. It was elegant, grand, and cold.
“I would bring in a big bouquet of flowers for the entry on this table ; it will warm the place up.” He pointed to a regency-burled, walnut round table. “We could say the blooms are from gardens on the estate. People will love that. Makes them feel like landed gentry.”
“Nice,” Melissa agreed.
Craig smirked as he shrugged his big shoulders. “Whatever.”
Paul went to hand the key to Melissa who shook her head, “You keep it now. You’re going to need to get in here to show the house. Is that alright with you Craig?”
“I don’t care,” Craig said. “Make sure you don’t lose it. They’re hard to copy.”
"Do you have another?"
"There are a few floating around. The housekeeper has one, I have the other." Melissa assured him as he pocketed the cumbersome key.
“Had they updated the kitchen?” Paul asked as they walked down a narrow hallway lined with Sheraton consoles that could have paid for both Veronica and Jesse college educations. They must be sitting on two million dollars in antique furniture alone, he thought to himself.
Paul stopped just outside the billiards room, his eyes drawn to a broken while marble tile. Craig looked back, smiling when he noticed what caught Paul's attention.
"Oh man, did I get my ass kicked for that." Craig said.
"What?" Melissa came to stand next to them. "Oh what happened here. I've never noticed that."
Both Paul and Craig grinned in shared amusement.
"They never let me into the main house after that." Paul murmured.
"Superbowl, 1995. We appropriated some of my Dad's brandy..."
"And scotch, and vodka, I'd kill my kids if they did that..." Paul added.
"Well, Carey, Dad's butler caught us and we dropped a case of really old..."
"Scotch. What a mess. We cracked the tile and I was banished to the pool house when I visited." Paul finished.
"All my friends were."
"I wasn't." Melissa said pointedly.
"You were special." Craig said sarcastically.
The kitchen had been redone in the late 20s and was still the same putrid shade of green with white utilitarian cabinets. This was clearly going to have to be gutted and will take away from the value of the house. Everyone wanted gourmet kitchens today. The appliances however were new and had the capability to do banquet catering. Paul jotted notes into his spiral notebook.
They gathered at a picture window, admiring the overgrown garden. As Melissa and Craig were momentarily distracted by an antique jug, something flashed outside. Its laser beam hitting Paul directly in his eyes. He gasped and Craig looked up saying, “What? What is it?”
“Did you see that?” Paul asked.
“Did I see what?”
“The light.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Craig replied and the subject was closed. They walked through the rooms, and when they approached the master, Paul hung back just a bit. He did not want to go in there. “I swear, they cleaned it, Paul. You wouldn’t even know something happened in there.”
“Why ?” Craig turned to look at him. “What’s the matter now?”
“Nothing . Nothing at all.” He followed them in, his heart tattooing his chest.
Sure enough, the room was spotless, and the chair he had seen from the window, missing. A scent of something familiar assailed his nose and he gagged. It was the unmistakable smell of illness.
“Your mom was sick?” he asked Craig.
“No. Why?”
“Just asking .” He knew what he smelled and the odor was of illness.
Craig and Melissa stood in the center of the room, hands clasped . She put her arms around him, but her face looked at Paul. Craig returned her embrace and didn’t see her predatory eyes following Paul as he backed uncomfortably out of the room. “I’m going to run upstairs and check
They entered the spacious entry with its black -and-white marbled floors in a beautiful two-story hall. Period furniture was placed along the white walls. It was elegant, grand, and cold.
“I would bring in a big bouquet of flowers for the entry on this table ; it will warm the place up.” He pointed to a regency-burled, walnut round table. “We could say the blooms are from gardens on the estate. People will love that. Makes them feel like landed gentry.”
“Nice,” Melissa agreed.
Craig smirked as he shrugged his big shoulders. “Whatever.”
Paul went to hand the key to Melissa who shook her head, “You keep it now. You’re going to need to get in here to show the house. Is that alright with you Craig?”
“I don’t care,” Craig said. “Make sure you don’t lose it. They’re hard to copy.”
"Do you have another?"
"There are a few floating around. The housekeeper has one, I have the other." Melissa assured him as he pocketed the cumbersome key.
“Had they updated the kitchen?” Paul asked as they walked down a narrow hallway lined with Sheraton consoles that could have paid for both Veronica and Jesse college educations. They must be sitting on two million dollars in antique furniture alone, he thought to himself.
Paul stopped just outside the billiards room, his eyes drawn to a broken while marble tile. Craig looked back, smiling when he noticed what caught Paul's attention.
"Oh man, did I get my ass kicked for that." Craig said.
"What?" Melissa came to stand next to them. "Oh what happened here. I've never noticed that."
Both Paul and Craig grinned in shared amusement.
"They never let me into the main house after that." Paul murmured.
"Superbowl, 1995. We appropriated some of my Dad's brandy..."
"And scotch, and vodka, I'd kill my kids if they did that..." Paul added.
"Well, Carey, Dad's butler caught us and we dropped a case of really old..."
"Scotch. What a mess. We cracked the tile and I was banished to the pool house when I visited." Paul finished.
"All my friends were."
"I wasn't." Melissa said pointedly.
"You were special." Craig said sarcastically.
The kitchen had been redone in the late 20s and was still the same putrid shade of green with white utilitarian cabinets. This was clearly going to have to be gutted and will take away from the value of the house. Everyone wanted gourmet kitchens today. The appliances however were new and had the capability to do banquet catering. Paul jotted notes into his spiral notebook.
They gathered at a picture window, admiring the overgrown garden. As Melissa and Craig were momentarily distracted by an antique jug, something flashed outside. Its laser beam hitting Paul directly in his eyes. He gasped and Craig looked up saying, “What? What is it?”
“Did you see that?” Paul asked.
“Did I see what?”
“The light.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Craig replied and the subject was closed. They walked through the rooms, and when they approached the master, Paul hung back just a bit. He did not want to go in there. “I swear, they cleaned it, Paul. You wouldn’t even know something happened in there.”
“Why ?” Craig turned to look at him. “What’s the matter now?”
“Nothing . Nothing at all.” He followed them in, his heart tattooing his chest.
Sure enough, the room was spotless, and the chair he had seen from the window, missing. A scent of something familiar assailed his nose and he gagged. It was the unmistakable smell of illness.
“Your mom was sick?” he asked Craig.
“No. Why?”
“Just asking .” He knew what he smelled and the odor was of illness.
Craig and Melissa stood in the center of the room, hands clasped . She put her arms around him, but her face looked at Paul. Craig returned her embrace and didn’t see her predatory eyes following Paul as he backed uncomfortably out of the room. “I’m going to run upstairs and check
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