The Mystery of the Red-Brick House

By Betty Casbeer Carroll

This is a mystery involving five siblings: Jeanie, Ann, Liz, Ricky, and Neil. They move to a red-brick house that had been vacant for years. It is located on the back of a wooded lot with tall trees and an orchard, and surrounded by an iron picket fence with a rusty gate that squeaks and creaks when it's opened.

The neighbor kids think the place is haunted because it's been vacant so long, the red bricks are chipped and cracked, and the yard is full of tall weeds. After Liz sees a strange man run from their basement to the orchard, Jeanie finds the trapdoor to the attic closed after it was left open, and they see muddy footprints that only went in one direction to the middle of the porch, they all become concerned.

Their mother hires a housekeeper, Miss Briggs, who has beady eyes that get red and watery when she's provoked. Her eccentric behavior frightens the children. Voices from her room in the middle of the night disturbs Jeanie and Ann, and heightens their curiosity. Who was in there? How did the person get in? When Miss Briggs forbids their only friend, Cindy, from coming over,they suspect something bad is going to happen. But what?

The children try to get Miss Briggs fired by complaining about her to their mother, who ignored their pleas. She thought they just didn't want to be supervised while she was gone. She learns eventually how wrong she was.

As the mysterious happenings begin to make sense, Jeanie and Ann get Liz, Ricky and Neil involved, as well as their friend, Cindy, who lives in the big mansion across the street.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Betty Casbeer Carroll
• Release date: Jul 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465825896

Betty Casbeer Carroll

Retired from Wright-Patterson AFB, OH) as a computer specialist/programmer. Published two historical novels (of a planned six-book series called "The Foothill Spirits" for young adults and a book called "The Mystery of the Red-Brick House" for younger readers.Currently writing a memoir entitled "A Freethinker's Memoir of Bygone Days: [Ruminations, Observations, and Insights]" scheduled for publication in 2018.

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The Mystery of the Red-Brick House

by

Betty Casbeer Carroll

Copyright 2002, 2011 by Betty Casbeer Carroll

Smashwords E

dition 2011 Revision

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Dedication

Dedicated to my children (now grown)

who were models for the five siblings in the book.

Peggy Choka

Martha Scott

Jacquelyn Carroll

Richard Carroll, Jr. (deceased)

Michael Carroll

Table of Contents

Part I: The Enigmas

Part II: Impending Danger

Part II1: The Mystery Unfolds

About the Author

Other Books by the Author

Author's Notes

Acknowledgments

Connect with Me Online

Part I: The Enigmas

Chapter 0: Introduction

This is a mystery involving five siblings (Jeanie, Ann, Liz, Ricky, and Neil). They move into a red-brick house for the summer that had been vacant for years. It is located on the back of a wooded lot populated with oak, maple, and pine trees, and surrounded by an iron picket fence with a rusty gate that squeaks and creaks when it’s opened.

The neighbor kids think the place is spooky because it’s been vacant so long, the red bricks are chipped and cracked, and the yard is full of tall weeds, except Cindy. She once lived in the house, and laughs at such rumors. The spider webs hanging on the eaves, in the doorways, and all through the house reinforces the children’s initial impression when they first moved in, that the house is haunted.

Their mother hires a housekeeper, Miss Briggs, who has beady eyes that get red and watery when she’s provoked. Her presence and eccentric behavior frighten them.

When the five children fuss about Miss Briggs to their mother, she assumes they just don’t want to be supervised when she’s gone, and ignores their complaints. She learns eventually how wrong she was.

Chapter 1: Pancakes and Maple Syrup

Hold it, a voice called from the end of the hall. No pillow fights today.

How did she know? whispered Jeanie. After all, they weren’t making that much noise. It didn’t near compare with throwing balls against the wall like Ricky and Neil did when they were bored.

The five pillows dropped to the floor. Neil glanced at his older brother and mumbled under his breath, I won.

Ricky dropped his jaw, and rolled his eyes in obvious disagreement. I heard that, he said. You can’t win a pillow fight. Nobody keeps score.

Neil glanced sideways at his oldest sister Jeanie, and waited for her to say something, to come his rescue. But she just ignored him. So-o-o, he said to his brother, not wanting to back down.

Ricky rolled his eyes again, and slapped the side of his own face lightly. Duh-h. Then added, So-o-o, who says?

Me. I say.

That doesn’t make it so. If anyone won, it was me.

Jeanie interrupted them. Hey. Shut up. What’s point?.

Neil turned to his sister Ann, but she was preoccupied fluffing pillows and putting them back on the bunk beds. His last hope was Liz, but he lost that when she spoke up next. I won, she said, looking wide-eyed and solemn, like that settled the matter right then and there.

Who cares? asked Ann, plumping up another pillow and placing it on Neil’s mattress.

I do. ‘Cause I won, repeated Liz, taking the pillow off Neil’s bunk and throwing it across the room. It barely missed a lamp and landed on Ricky’s bed.

Get your pillow off my bed, Lizzie.

.Breakfast is ready, their mother announced, as she poked her head through the doorway. Buttermilk pancakes and maple syrup. Tall, with ash blonde hair that barely touched her shoulders, she projected confidence and optimism, and commanded attention wherever she went. Her children knew her to be loving, but demanding. When she barked out orders, they seldom defied her, and only if they thought they could get away with it. She stayed so busy, she rarely remembered anyway. And when she stopped for her power nap shortly after lunch, they had a good two hours to do what they pleased.

After supper, when she would take a warm shower, brush her hair, and slip into a colorful shift or flowered chemise, the boys would climb on her lap and the three girls would flank her on each side. Bedtime was their quiet time. It was time to unwind, to talk or read or listen. Her voice seemed more serene, not hoarse and deep and impatient. But the same was true of her children. When dusk turned to night and bedtime was imminent, they became quieter. Less energetic. More subdued.

We’re coming. We’re coming, yelled Neil and Ricky as they followed their mother down the hallway to the kitchenette.

Jeanie stepped into the doorway and turned around, facing her two sisters. She pushed a string of uncombed hair out of her face, and held up her hand like she was directing traffic. Wait, she said and wrinkled her brow to get just the right effect--solemn and serious. I have butterflies in my stomach. She paused for a moment, then continued, It’s a warning. It’s an omen. Something exciting, maybe dangerous, is going to happen this summer.

I’m kinda nervous myself, added Ann. I think it’s because we’re moving. She held out her shaking hands as proof.

Me, too. My stomach is turning somersaults, said Liz. She looked from Jeanie to Ann, then back to Jeanie. She pointed to her belly. See how it jumps.

It’s just because we’re moving, Ann explained a second time, with her usual logic.

No. It’s not, said Jeanie. She was forever apprehensive about something, conjuring up images of potential disasters. When her sisters expressed any skepticism, she reminded them about her prediction of the tornado last year that tore the roof off the barn, and pulled up the oldest oak tree in the cow pasture. Ann tried to explain over and over that anyone could predict a tornado coming when its funnel was already dropping from the clouds. She said it was a warning, even a happening, but not a real, honest prediction.

Jeanie lowered her voice so she could barely be heard. I feel it in my bones. It’s like a premonition.

Of what? said Ann.

Who knows? Wait ‘til you see the house, Jeanie whispered again. If there was ever a haunted house, this one is.

Haunted? asked Liz, her face turning ashen. She drained the color from her face so often, her sisters either scoffed, or just ignored it.

Yes. Haunted, repeated Jeanie, raising her voice. Her eyes dilated and flashed with excitement. She looked at her sisters, and waited for a response.

Why? asked Ann politely. She thought Jeanie was overdoing it.

It looks spooky, that’s why.

Spooky? repeated Liz as she immediately turned ashen again. The look of death, her sisters called it.

The kids in that neighborhood think so.

Did they tell you that? asked Ann.

Not exactly, said Jeanie. But I can tell. These two little girls wouldn’t get near the fence.

You’re making that up. I wish Mother had taken me to get the keys.

She asked me first.

It was your time to baby sit.

That doesn’t matter. Mother wanted me. I’m the oldest.

She never keeps track whose time it is. You shoulda told her.

You coulda told her yourself.

Their mother called from the kitchen, Girls, your pancakes are getting cold. There was a slight edge to her voice.

Mother’s getting impatient. Let’s go before the boys eat up our pancakes.

Okay by me.

Liz, don’t tell the boys or Mother what I just told you.

Why?

Because I said not to.

You’re not the boss.

Just this once keep your mouth shut. Could you please do that? Just this once?

Maybe.

Liz, I’m warning you. If you say one word, I’ll tape your mouth shut.

Liz ran out of the room, yelling, Mother-r. Jeanie’s going to tape my mouth.

Let her go, said Ann. You really think it’s haunted?

Yes. It’s definitely haunted.

Let’s eat. I’m hungry.

How can you eat at a time like this? asked Jeanie.

Because I don’t believe in ghosts, answered Ann, which wasn’t exactly the truth. Ann wavered between the rational and the irrational. She only believed in ghosts when she actually saw one herself, which didn’t happen very often, if ever. She could never say with certainty that the ones she did see weren’t just temporary illusions caused by Jeanie’s fervor about things that go bump in the night.

Jeanie shrugged and followed Ann to the dining room. She sat down, poured hot syrup over cold pancakes, and felt just a little smug as she looked across the table at her skeptical sister. She’ll believe it when she sees the red-brick house. It’s haunted, that she was sure of. She took a bite of her pancake, and it stuck in her throat just thinking about it.

####

Chapter 2: The Red-Brick House

Liz