Behind the Wainscoting

By Richard K. Flowers

Dr. James Mason was looking for a peaceful place to retire.  The little town of Bradville was like a walk in the past.  The people were friendly, life was slow, and the atmosphere serene.  It was the perfect setting for an old fashioned ghost mystery--according to the town folk!  But when Dr. Mason bought the old Victorian style country home, he didn't believe in the supernatural.  However, it didn't take him long to realize that he was not alone in the house!

Come along with Dr. Mason on an adventurous journey of fear and self discovery, as he tries to right a heinous wrong and free a tortured soul.  The old Weatherton house will make you a believer too, when you discover the mystery that lies behind the wainscoting!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard K. Flowers
• Release date: Aug 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393267959

Richard K. Flowers

Richard Keith Flowers was born in Moultrie, Georgia in 1957. Being legally blind since birth, public school was a nightmare. Shortly after beginning eighth grade at Moultrie Junior High, he transferred to the Academy for the Blind in Macon, Georgia where he graduated high school in 1975.   He choose to pursue Broadcast Journalism at Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College. While there, he worked part-time on weekends as a DJ at WLOR radio in Thomasville, Georgia. In 1977, he earned his Associate degree in Journalism.   Mr. Flowers transferred to the University of Georgia to complete his four year degree. He decided to specialize in Broadcast Production and earned a Bachelors degree from UGA in 1979. After graduating, he returned to WLOR radio as a full-time employee and remained there for twelve years.   When the station was moved in 1991, Mr. Flowers decided to return to school and seek a Ph.D. in Foreign Language Education so he could teach in a university. He completed a Bachelors degree in Spanish at Valdosta State College in 1994, a Masters degree in Spanish at Florida State University in 1997, and a Masters degree in Multilingual/Multicultural Education from Florida State University in 1999.   He was half-way through the course work for the Ph.D. when his father passed away in 2003. Exhausted from nine long years of college, he was no longer able to continue with his education and never completed the Ph.D. program.   A year after leaving college, he found work with the State of Florida Division of Blind Services in their IT department. Mr. Flowers is currently Webmaster for their Internet and Intranet websites and also helps with PC and case management system support.

Book preview

An Old Fashioned Ghost Mystery

WAINSCOTING:  decorative wooden paneling that covers the lower part of the walls of a room or hallway.

Doctor James Mason was looking for a peaceful place to retire.  The little town of Bradville was like a walk in the past.  People were friendly, life was slow, and the atmosphere serene.  It was perfect!  When he bought the old Victorian style country home, he didn’t believe in the supernatural.  But it didn’t take him long to realize that he was not alone in the house!

Come along with Dr. Mason on an adventurous journey of fear and self discovery, as he tries to right a heinous wrong and free a tortured soul.  The old Weatherton house will make you a believer too, when you discover the mystery that lies behind the wainscoting!

Chapter 1

The Old Weatherton Estate

MARCH HAD GIVEN WAY to April.  It was nice to be driving out of the city for a change.  North Georgia was still cool this time of year, but the sun was bright, and the air was clean and brisk.  Dr. James Mason watched the scenery drifting by on his left as he glanced out the driver’s side window.  Now and then, he wondered what lay in store for him at his destination.  He was on his way to meet the real estate agent he spoke to on the phone yesterday concerning a property for sale five miles north of Bradville.  It was far enough out of town to be private but close enough to allow frequent contact with civilization.

James was tall and slim, of average build, with soft brown eyes that showed kindness, and slightly graying hair cut short according to University guidelines.  Though he looked calm and assured, there was something about him that suggested weariness.  He was tired much of the time, both physically and emotionally.  University life had weighed heavily on him, and now he was burned out as a professor.  Twenty years of teaching Spanish to freshman and sophomore students who constantly complained about having to meet the basic academic requirements for a foreign language were quite enough!  Once in a while, he would encounter a few interested souls who sought a degree in his area of study.  He relished those rare moments.  But enough was enough, and it was time for him to bow out gracefully.

Retirement had come early for James Mason.  He had just turned fifty.  He was looking forward to a quiet life with no lectures to give or papers to grade.  And what made his situation even better, he was still young enough to enjoy it.  Starting a new life in the country, he told himself, was a necessary first step.  He wanted, desperately, to get out of the city.  He longed for the peace and quiet a rural life could offer.  Now, he was on his way to see a house in the country he might consider purchasing.

He slowed the car as he entered the city limits of Bradville.  Now and then, the alternate stretches of wooded area and farm lands gave way to residential plots with a house and side garden.  These, in turn, blended into a sprawling rural neighborhood that surrounded the town square.  The main street reminded him of the small southern towns depicted in old movies and TV series of the 1950’s and 60’s.  The whole place looked as if it hadn’t changed in half a century.  Small shops lined the main street for blocks.  There was a movie theater, a diner, a hardware store, a five and ten cent store, a book shop, a grocery store, and a couple of clothing stores.  A small appliance repair shop, like those that had gone out of style when his parents were children, stood proudly on one corner.  He even recognized what was obviously a junk shop masquerading as an antique dealer.  Driving through downtown Bradville was like taking a walk into the past.  This was exactly the kind of place he had been hoping to find—a picturesque haven where he could get away from the stress of college life and do exactly as he pleased.  Here there would be no more time constraints or boring departmental meetings.

Two blocks down on the right, he found Bradville’s one real estate office—a red brick building with an old fashioned glass door and an awning on the front.  He parked the car, got out, stretched, and made his way to the entrance.  Through the glass, he could see Mrs. Ellis sitting behind a handsome antique mahogany desk, pouring over a picture book of real estate listings.  She was a fairly attractive woman, slightly older than himself and perhaps a little over weight, but well enough to look at with graying hair and horn rimmed glasses.  She reminded him of a high school librarian, and he wondered if she had ever worked in a library.  Probably not.  She looked up as the little shop bell tinkled when he entered. 

Ah!  Mr. Mason!  I see you made it.  No problem finding us, then?

No, he said with a faint smile.  Your directions were impeccable.  And I have to say, this is a charming little town!

We’re very proud of it!  She closed the listing book and laid it on the corner of her desk.  We’ve worked very hard to keep strong ties to the our history and cultural roots.

I see what you mean, he remarked.  Bradville looks almost as though it were frozen in time.

Mrs. Ellis stood up and walked to a coat rack in the corner, talking as she went.  Not quite, Mr. Mason.  She slipped on her sweater.  We have cable TV, the Internet, and all the other modern conveniences.  We just don’t allow ourselves to become enslaved to them like they do in the big cities.  People around here prefer a slower, more peaceful life.  James shifted his feet as she made her way towards the door where he was standing.  That is what you are looking for, is it not?  What you said on the phone?

Oh, yes! he replied.  Peace and quiet.  You see, I’m retiring, and I just want to get away from it all.  He told her the same thing on the phone yesterday.  He wondered why he felt it necessary to repeat himself, when that was not his usual habit.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to look like he was cold.

Well, as I told you yesterday, Mr. Mason, I think I have just the place for you!  I’ll drive you out there.  Shall we go?  She motioned towards the door.

Of course, he said, as he held the door for her to walk through.  When she had locked the office, he followed her to an old, green Buick parked a few spaces down.  She slipped in behind the wheel, he took the passenger’s seat, and they pulled out onto main street heading north out of town.

You said it was about five miles? he asked while staring straight ahead at the road. 

Yes, maybe not quite five miles.  It’s close enough to town, you don’t have to worry about utilities, deliveries, shopping, that sort of thing.  Lots of people who consider themselves Bradvillians live even farther out.  It’s private, but still convenient.

I must admit, it sounds perfect!

Just wait till you see it, she bragged.  I just know it will fit your needs perfectly.

He had the impression that she was laying it on a little too thick.  He felt like a piece of toast being buttered.  That was her job, though.  His job was to keep a level head and not let himself get carried away by his emotions.  He already liked the atmosphere.  And as he looked out the window at the passing scenery, he realized how much he hungered for rural life.  He grew up in a small town in Georgia.  He knew, very well, all the little idiosyncrasies of small town life.  He remembered, too, how he couldn’t wait to get away and see the world.  He had been much younger then, and the world had turned out to be somewhat of a disappointment.  He was tired of the rat race—always running to get somewhere and never quite arriving.  Some people just aren’t cut out for a highly competitive existence.  Unfortunately, youth is often short sighted about what’s really important.  Now that he was older, he knew what he wanted.  He might even do some research or write a book.  The possibilities were endless.  Fortunately, he had managed to save quite a bit of money, and several of his investments had paid off handsomely.  While his means were by no means extensive, he had enough to live on comfortably for the rest of his life.  Still, there were practical matters to consider.  He would have to be very careful managing his finances, or he might find himself in dire straits should he live to a ripe old age.

Lost in his musings, he failed to realize how quickly the five miles had passed.  Before he knew it, they were turning off the main road onto a narrow paved street that led to the property.

Mrs. Ellis cleared her throat to get his attention.  All the land from the main road to the house, and a little ways beyond, goes with the property.

All this! he exclaimed.  I didn’t realize the property was so extensive!

It’s quite large, she said.  Nearly 30 acres!  But it’s mostly forest, except for the area around the house and gardens.  The property has been in the Weatherton family since the early 1900’s.

They drove down a long, paved road that wound through a lightly forested area.  She pointed with her index finger to a clearing just ahead.  There it is!

As they rounded a gentle curve in the road, the house loomed up in front of them from behind a stand of maple trees.  It was a large, late Victorian style country house on two levels with ample ornamentation appropriate to the period.  This beautiful old home had been recently painted a light green color, and it had been very well taken care of.  His mouth dropped open as he stared at the impressive edifice with wonder.  Mrs. Ellis was studying his reaction with practiced interest.  Years of experience told her the sale was already made.

Wow! he exclaimed.  That’s some house!

She beamed at him.  Lovely, isn’t it!  They don’t build them like this anymore.

Most people can’t afford to build them like this anymore, he replied as his eyes moved over the various carved pillars and ornate trim.  Are you sure you’re showing me the right property, Mrs. Ellis?

Absolutely! she replied.  He looked doubtful.  Then she added, I’m sure we can work out a satisfactory arrangement if you really want the property. 

Alright, then, he said.  I’ve come this far.  Besides, I’d really love to see it.

She smiled as she stopped the car on the front drive and opened her door to get out.  Come on, Mr. Mason, let me show you around.

James stood for a moment, looking over the facade that seemed to be looking back at him.  The entire structure, as if it had its own personality, exuded opulence!  They climbed a wide set of white stone steps onto a wrap-around porch that stretched across the front of the house and extended down both sides.  A large, carved oak front door, with brass handle and ornate Victorian style glass panes, was set in the middle of the front wall.  The door was flanked on either side by two beautifully beveled bay windows.  To the right of the door, he noticed an old fashioned, wall mounted mailbox of antique design.  He stared around the entire front of the building to get a better look at all the intricate ornamentation, while Mrs. Ellis dug into her purse for a set of keys.  When she found them, she unlocked the door, and they entered the foyer.

A gray marble floor gleamed beneath their feet.  The foyer was almost ten feet wide and twelve feet deep.  It ended in a set of double doors, the top third of which was occupied by old fashioned, beveled glass panes.  These doors opened onto a long hallway that ran the entire length of the house.  He noticed an antique hat rack on the wall to the left of the main entrance through which they had just passed.  A beautifully polished walnut table holding a vase of artificial flowers stood father down.  An antique mirror hung immediately above it.  Against the opposite wall, to their right, sat a wooden bench meant to be used for putting on and taking off shoes.  Past this bench, and just before the double doors leading into the main house, was the coat closet.

Mrs. Ellis was watching his expression very carefully.  The foyer is pretty standard.  You have a hat rack, bench, and a coat closet.  But this wonderful old marble floor—you don’t see much of that around anymore.

It’s beautiful, he said, looking down at the gray marble.

The Weatherton family could afford such luxuries, she commented as she opened the double doors into the main dwelling.  Let me show you the house, Mr. Mason! 

They walked into a main hallway covered in lush green carpet.  A white marble stairway, leading to the second floor, was located at the very back end.  A closed door to the right of the stairs indicated a smaller room farther back.  And to the left of the stairs stood a handsome grandfather clock.  James noticed it was running as if someone still lived here, which he knew was not the case.  For a moment, it made him shudder.  Mrs. Ellis noticed his reaction to the clock.

I guess Mrs. Hayes must have wound it when she was cleaning yesterday, she explained, nervously.  The agency pays her to come in and clean once a month.  Of course, with no one living here, there isn’t much for her to do but dust and mop a little.

I guess not, he said.  For a moment, I thought the place might be haunted! 

His joke caught her totally by surprise, and she turned a little pale.  The clock was acquired sometime in the late 1950’s, she explained as she regained her composure.  Howard Miller was—and still is—one of the best clock makers in the country.  The Weatherton family always went in for quality on everything.

He couldn’t help but be impressed.  That’s obvious!  How many rooms?

Mrs. Ellis did some quick mental math.  There are seven rooms on the ground floor, if you count the bathroom.  The two on the left are the dining room and the kitchen.  On the right, there’s a sitting room and a library.  The downstairs bathroom is just to the right of the stairs.  And behind the kitchen, on the back side, off the scullery, there’s a smaller accommodation that was originally used as a maid’s quarters.  Of course, it could be turned into a guest room.  The house is completely furnished, and all the carpeting was just replaced three years ago.

James was looking in every direction all at once as they made their way down the hall to the first door on the left.  It was a large room, richly decorated, with a brightly polished hard wood floor.  In the middle of the room stood a long, gleaming oak table surrounded by ten beautifully carved oak chairs with cushions of red velvet.  This is the dining room, Mr. Mason.  Isn’t it lovely?

He let his eyes follow the wall, all the way around the room, from one side to the other while examining the furniture and paintings.  It looks like royalty should be living here, he thought aloud. 

Mrs. Ellis grinned.  Well, maybe not royalty, but very close to it.  The Weatherton family was filthy rich.  They came from somewhere up north.  The whole family was into politics in one way or another.

He examined the intricately carved wooden panels that covered the bottom third of the wall all the way around the room.  I love this old wainscoting! he commented.  You don’t see much of it anymore!

No, you don’t, she agreed.  And its real mahogany, too!  Not that fake stuff.  It’s in every single room in the house except the bathrooms.  They have tile, of course.

James was awe struck.  It must have cost the builder a small fortune!

She nodded.  Probably so.  The Weatherton family had more money than they knew what to do with.  They weren’t the kind to skimp on anything.

I can see that! he said, obviously stunned by the richness and beauty of the room.

Seeing he was lost in the moment, she gave him a gentle prod.  Come on!  Let me show you the kitchen.

They left the dining room through a door that communicated directly into an adjacent room that shone with stainless steel.  His first impression was that of a restaurant or hotel.  The floor, which looked like marble, was actually a beige colored tile.  A large marble-topped table with four straight chairs occupied the center portion of the room.  Set into the outside wall was an old fashioned brick fireplace and mantle that gave everything a quaint, homey feeling.  To the right of the hearth, a window adorned by yellow and white curtains permitted ample sunlight to stream into the room.  And a closed door on the wall opposite the dining room suggested another area farther back.

As he looked around, he marveled at a commercial style cook stove and double door refrigerator, a large microwave oven and heavy duty dishwasher, and many counters and cupboards.  The appliances, though apparently from a decade or more past, gleamed as though they had been buffed and polished.

James walked over and examined the stove.  Why all the commercial grade appliances?

You’d have to know the Weathertons, she explained.  With all that money, they never had to shop around like we do.  They just picked the best of the best and paid for it.  The kitchen was remodeled about fifteen years ago.  I still remember.  I picked up the phone one morning and Mr. Weatherton was on the other end of the line.  He said he was going to modernize the kitchen and to let the workmen in.  That was it.  When he decided to do something, he did it and spared no expense.

Well, he certainly had good taste, James acknowledged.  He walked around the kitchen examining all the appliances, counters, and cupboards with great care.  He wanted to make sure there weren’t any signs of rodents or other pests.  He didn’t find any. 

If this was a family home, why did they make the kitchen so large?

Mrs. Ellis gave him an amused look.  Back when this house was built, wealthy people gave lots of dinner parties.  There was need of a large and well provided kitchen.  Today, all this space isn’t really necessary.  But I think it’s just delightful!  Do you think Mrs. Mason will like it?

I’m afraid there isn’t a Mrs. Mason, he replied.

Oh!  I’m terribly sorry!  I shouldn’t have assumed!

I’ve never been married, he admitted, reluctantly, and gave her such a stern look that she abandoned any further inquiries.  Then he pointed to the smaller door opposite the dining room. 

Where does that other door lead?

Oh, that goes to a scullery and servant’s quarters, she said.

He gave her a puzzled look. Scullery?

Yes!  It’s an area reserved for washing and preparing food and doing laundry.  There’s a pantry to it as well.

She opened the door and led him into a large area with a stone floor that had a drain in the middle.  The walls were made of red brick, and three bare bulbs, evenly spaced, hung from the ceiling.  A door directly in front of them led into the back yard.  To their left, against the wall that separated the kitchen from the scullery, stood a fairly modern washer and dryer.  The corner to the right of the laundry facilities was occupied by a large water heater.  The outside wall on that end of the room was almost completely taken up by counter space.  On the wall directly in front of them and to the left of the back door stood a couple of large, deep metal sinks.  And the wall on their immediate right was almost completely covered with pantry shelves.  A door in the middle of the pantry wall led into a rather shabby bedroom that had obviously been used in former times as a maid’s quarters. 

Sculleries were once very common, she explained.  Then she noticed him staring at a monstrous looking apparatus occupying the corner between the back door and the pantry.  That’s the heating and air conditioning system, she explained.  The other part is on the outside.

It must cost a fortune to heat and cool this place, he observed.

Not really.  Each room has its own booster fan and air cutoff louver.  You can heat or cool only the portions of the house you desire.  It’s really very efficient.

He smiled.  They thought of everything, didn’t they?

Almost, she said as they returned to the kitchen.

He looked around again at the appliances. Does everything in here work?  Nothing in need of repair?

No, Mr. Mason.  Everything works just fine.  The Weatherton family kept their house and all its contents in excellent repair.  She turned to exit the kitchen.  Well, let’s take a look at the library, shall we?

They left the kitchen through the hall door and walked directly across to the library door opposite.  It opened into a large room with a high ceiling from the center of which hung an ornate crystal chandelier.  The scent of old leather and Old English furniture polish, like his grandmother used to use, hung lightly in the air.  The floor was covered in a plush, dark green carpet.  Except where heavy draperies obscured two large bay windows, almost every foot of wall space was adorned with books of every size and description.  A number of older, leather bound volumes suggested they might belong to a collection of classics.  A sofa and two overstuffed armchairs occupied the center of the room along with a beautifully polished mahogany table around which stood several ornately carved, straight backed chairs.  There was even a large atlas of the world standing at the back end of the room.  It was the perfect library—a scholarly man’s haven.

On all sides, bookshelves had been constructed around empty rectangular wall spaces that had been extended outward to sit flush with the front edge of the shelves.  On three of the four walls, these spaces contained portraits of past presidents.  The forth wall held an extremely large oil painting of a rather stern looking man wearing a three piece suit with a short jacket, medium high collar, and tapered pants.  He wore short hair, parted in the middle, and a handlebar mustache.  His dark brown eyes stared out of the portrait with an