Read Online Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island by Michael Phillip Cash - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Phillip Cash
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out the other bedrooms.” He recognized grief in Craig’s expression but refused to acknowledge what he saw in Melissa’s glance.
He ran up the grand stair case steps two at a time and walked around each bedroom. Using his cell, he took a few shots so he could come up with ideas later. Each bedroom had been redecorated in a different time period. It was actually pretty interesting, Paul thought. There was a suite from the roaring 20s which was all fringe and lace in muted colors. The art deco room had mirrored furniture and he laughed thinking Stella would have a field day in there with the multifaceted vanity table. There was a regency style bedroom that looked right out of the set of Pride and Prejudice. He went back to the rooms over the servant’s wing, here the hallway was dingy and unused. The carpet was so worn that it bordered threadbare. It was eerily quiet, not even the floor boards creaked and he felt removed form the rest of the house, in a time warp. Ghostly shadows of furniture under Holland covers unnerved him each time he opened another door. The last bedroom on the right was closed off, the door stuck, its handle difficult to move. He pushed it with all his weight against the door, and it gave in, propelling him into the room. It was painted in old colors, sort of a sea foam, as if it hadn’t been updated in two hundred years. There was an ancient tester bed, hung with yellowed lace. He touched a corner then watched it disintegrate into dust. The room was musty, old, and silent. He walked to the window and looked out on the yard seeing the Stillwell wishing well right in the center of his view. Tucked in a small dale, it was flanked by lush weeping willows. A broken bucket swayed on worn rope lines. It was an eyesore, he thought. Maybe he should suggest Craig call his uncle and have the place torn down for condos. An eerie chill swept up his spine, and sweat dotted his forehead. The ring on the chain around his neck vibrated with a life of its own. It grew hot, the heat singeing him. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered.
He made a hasty retreat for the stairs, overwhelmed by claustrophobia. He reached the carpeted landing and raced down the steps. Midway, he felt a punch to his back right shoulder blade, knocking the wind from him. The stairs came up to meet his face as he tumbled down the rest of the way to rest dazed at the bottom.
He became aware of a cool hand first and muffled voices next . Craig’s white face was talking into a cell phone.
“Yes, that’s right, the Stillwell estate, off Route 25A. Right away. He’s breathing, oh, Paul.” He knelt down. “You OK?”
A hand restrained him . “Don’t move. The ambulance will be here soon,” Melissa added.
“No .” Paul raised himself painfully. “I’m OK. Just dazed.”
“What happened?” Craig asked.
“I...”
“It’s that blasted carpeting . Craig, I told you we should pull it up!”
“I think I was pushed .” Paul heard the words come out of his mouth.
“The EMTs will be here in a minute . Did you hit your head?” Craig handed him a bottle of water he had gotten out of his car.
“I don’t think so . I don’t know. Maybe.” He looked up at them. “I don’t know if I want to do this listing. Maybe I’m not ready.”
“We’ll wait . We don’t want anyone else,” she added hastily.
“Paul .” Craig looked at him. “I…I know you’re going through a rough time. Nobody else wants the listing. Nobody else will take it. Buddy, I need a favor.”
He shook his head to clear it, rising. As he stood he brushed imaginary dust from his pants, trying to find words.
He hated being put on the spot. He wanted to say, I’m seeing things. My head’s not screwed on straight right now. Don’t ask this of me . But the money beckoned. A commission to put him back where he wouldn’t have to worry about expenses. He couldn’t stop the next sentence that came out of his mouth. “Cancel the ambulance. I
He ran up the grand stair case steps two at a time and walked around each bedroom. Using his cell, he took a few shots so he could come up with ideas later. Each bedroom had been redecorated in a different time period. It was actually pretty interesting, Paul thought. There was a suite from the roaring 20s which was all fringe and lace in muted colors. The art deco room had mirrored furniture and he laughed thinking Stella would have a field day in there with the multifaceted vanity table. There was a regency style bedroom that looked right out of the set of Pride and Prejudice. He went back to the rooms over the servant’s wing, here the hallway was dingy and unused. The carpet was so worn that it bordered threadbare. It was eerily quiet, not even the floor boards creaked and he felt removed form the rest of the house, in a time warp. Ghostly shadows of furniture under Holland covers unnerved him each time he opened another door. The last bedroom on the right was closed off, the door stuck, its handle difficult to move. He pushed it with all his weight against the door, and it gave in, propelling him into the room. It was painted in old colors, sort of a sea foam, as if it hadn’t been updated in two hundred years. There was an ancient tester bed, hung with yellowed lace. He touched a corner then watched it disintegrate into dust. The room was musty, old, and silent. He walked to the window and looked out on the yard seeing the Stillwell wishing well right in the center of his view. Tucked in a small dale, it was flanked by lush weeping willows. A broken bucket swayed on worn rope lines. It was an eyesore, he thought. Maybe he should suggest Craig call his uncle and have the place torn down for condos. An eerie chill swept up his spine, and sweat dotted his forehead. The ring on the chain around his neck vibrated with a life of its own. It grew hot, the heat singeing him. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered.
He made a hasty retreat for the stairs, overwhelmed by claustrophobia. He reached the carpeted landing and raced down the steps. Midway, he felt a punch to his back right shoulder blade, knocking the wind from him. The stairs came up to meet his face as he tumbled down the rest of the way to rest dazed at the bottom.
He became aware of a cool hand first and muffled voices next . Craig’s white face was talking into a cell phone.
“Yes, that’s right, the Stillwell estate, off Route 25A. Right away. He’s breathing, oh, Paul.” He knelt down. “You OK?”
A hand restrained him . “Don’t move. The ambulance will be here soon,” Melissa added.
“No .” Paul raised himself painfully. “I’m OK. Just dazed.”
“What happened?” Craig asked.
“I...”
“It’s that blasted carpeting . Craig, I told you we should pull it up!”
“I think I was pushed .” Paul heard the words come out of his mouth.
“The EMTs will be here in a minute . Did you hit your head?” Craig handed him a bottle of water he had gotten out of his car.
“I don’t think so . I don’t know. Maybe.” He looked up at them. “I don’t know if I want to do this listing. Maybe I’m not ready.”
“We’ll wait . We don’t want anyone else,” she added hastily.
“Paul .” Craig looked at him. “I…I know you’re going through a rough time. Nobody else wants the listing. Nobody else will take it. Buddy, I need a favor.”
He shook his head to clear it, rising. As he stood he brushed imaginary dust from his pants, trying to find words.
He hated being put on the spot. He wanted to say, I’m seeing things. My head’s not screwed on straight right now. Don’t ask this of me . But the money beckoned. A commission to put him back where he wouldn’t have to worry about expenses. He couldn’t stop the next sentence that came out of his mouth. “Cancel the ambulance. I
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