The Markwell Manor Mystery: A DJ Benson Adventure
By JA Davies
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About this ebook
DJ’s family has just inherited a mansion in Sydney courtesy of their relatively unknown and somewhat mysterious Uncle Clive. But moving from their country town to the lap of luxury proves to be easier said than done.
Uncle Clive’s historic mansion already has other occupants—and these ghostly residents don’t want company! They aren’t the only ones who don’t want the Benson family in the mansion; a former employee wants to scare the Bensons away so he can use the building for his own purposes.
Why are there ghosts in the manor? What is the criminal plotting? What really happened to Uncle Clive?
Eleven-year-old DJ is the only one who can unravel the mystery of Markwell Manor in this spine-tingling adventure.
JA Davies
John Davies is a retired primary school principal who has been writing short plays and musicals for children for over 30 years. He is currently working on the next DJ Benson Adventure. He and his wife, Jill, live on the mid north coast of New South Wales, Australia, not far from DJ’s hometown.
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Book preview
The Markwell Manor Mystery - JA Davies
The Markwell Manor Mystery
A DJ Benson Adventure
By JA Davies
Copyright 2011 JA Davies
Smashwords Edition
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Chapter 1
An Unexpected Letter
I was only eleven years old when the dead man spoke to me. Even now, years later, I can still recall those first words clearly, as if he was standing in front of me.
‘Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.’
‘Are you ... who I ... think you are?’ I whimpered.
‘My name is Captain Thelonious Markwell, and I’m here to help you and your family.’
It was impossible! This was a dead man talking to me! Was I dreaming all this? Should I believe what I’d just heard? Was I in any danger? These thoughts raced through my head, which was still pounding like crazy, from the fall down the stairs.
‘That’s it – I’m still out cold,’ I thought aloud. ‘I must have hit my head hard enough to knock me out.’
I sat there, gently touching the tender swelling behind my left ear, dazed and confused by the events of the previous thirty-six hours.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, but, it was only the previous morning when Dad got the letter. Then, we all went to Sydney, and that’s where I fell down the stairs in the dark and met the dead man. But, I’m a little ahead of myself so, I guess I should start at the beginning.
I’m Daniel James Benson but my mates call me DJ. I live on a farm in an out-of-the-way place called Bandabura Junction - a tiny little speck on the floor of the valley where the Upper Bandabura Creek and the Lower Bandabura Creek meet before joining the Heyston River.
Even though our farmhouse is a long way out of town, we still get a daily mail delivery. But, last Friday’s mail included a small card from the post office in Waycope telling Dad that a registered letter was waiting for him to pick up. That meant an early trip to town next morning to catch the post office before it closed at midday.
‘I could pick up some groceries while we’re in town,’ said Mum.
‘I don’t want to be in town all day,’ grumbled Dad. ‘There’s plenty to do without spending a day shopping.’
It was the first Saturday of the July school holidays; so, I guess I was a little over-excited. That probably explains the havoc in the supermarket aisles. A tower of tinned baked beans collapsed when I bumped against it with the trolley. A tub of ice cream slipped out of my hands and lay cracked and melting on the polished floor near the freezer. And, when I chased my eight-year-old sister Holly for laughing at me, I slipped on that same polished floor and smashed three cartons of freshly laid eggs!
'Daniel James Benson!' said Mum firmly, 'Start acting like an eleven year old boy and stop this nonsense. Take yourself outside and wait for us under the trees before you double this week’s grocery bill.'
With Holly’s laughter still ringing in my ears, I stormed out of the supermarket and sat beneath the old cedar trees that ran down the centre of Main Street.
'It's not fair!' I muttered. 'Us kids are always too young to be allowed to do anything important, but old enough to get into trouble because we should have known better.'
After grumbling about everyone in general and no-one in particular, I settled down to wait for Mum and Holly. I was tossing pebbles at some sparrows when my eighteen year-old brother, Dave, walked up from the old Land Cruiser that Dad had parked at the end of the street.
'What're you looking so happy about, DJ?' Dave asked with a silly grin on his face. 'You in trouble again?'
'It's not fair!' I repeated loudly. 'I always get the blame.'
'Yeah, yeah,' said Dave. 'And you never do anything wrong, do you?'
I was about to launch myself at Dave and that stupid grin, when Mum and Holly emerged from the supermarket.
'Mum’s coming,' indicated Dave. 'You'll only get yourself in more trouble.'
I turned and ran across to Mum saying, 'Let me help you with those heavy groceries, Mum. They're too heavy for you to carry on your own.'
'Thank you DJ. You're a good boy – sometimes.’ Mum smiled thinly.
I picked up two of the heaviest parcels, turned away from Mum and poked my tongue out at Dave. He lunged at me, and I nearly dropped both parcels.
'Mum, help! Dave's trying to hit me!'
'Now cut it out, you two. Always fighting! Just wait until I tell your father.'
Having succeeded in getting Dave involved and taking some of the pressure off me, I walked away briskly, without a backward glance. I carried the two grocery bags under each arm, leaving Dave, Mum and Holly to do their best with the remaining pile. When I reached the cruiser, I opened the rear doors, put the two bags in the back and waited for the others to catch up. When all the groceries were safely stowed away, we headed for the Post Office where we were to meet up with Dad.
He was waiting for us outside the Post Office and after listening patiently to the tale of destruction at the supermarket, turned and gave both Dave and me one of his why don’t you two grow up?
looks.
'I thought I told you both to behave when you're out in public,' he growled. Dad had always been concerned about his family's image in the community.
I prepared myself for his usual lecture about being on