Mystery of the Mountain Cabin

By Charlotte Lewis

The ad was sketchy. Mountain cabin available-Aug, Sept, Oct. Isolated, not
remote. Close enough to town to be convenient. Lake view. Baldwin Realty
and a telephone number.
But it was exactly what Phoebe McFannin, mystery novelist, had in mind.
She was so tired of her neighbors noisy grandchildren. The air conditioning
didnt cool her entire apartment. Summer was becoming unbearable. Phoebe
signed the three-month lease and moved into the little mountain cabin on
August 1st. Hopefully, being away from the city noise and heat would give her
the energy to meet the mid-September deadline of the fi rst ten chapters of
her latest book.
The cabin appeared to be everything Phoebe had hoped. The view of the
lake was beautiful. The mountain air was refreshing. It was isolated, it was
quiet, it was cool.
What she didnt know, it was haunted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483658186

Charlotte Lewis

Charlotte Lewis, a retired accountant, lives in Southeast Kansas. Charlotte graduated from University of Southern California with a major in elementary education and a minor in music. Since retirement, she has self-published several novels and has published in Reminisce Magazine, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Hackathon Short Stories, Readers Digest Online, and Mused – an online journal. There's more to learn at charlottelewisonline.com

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The ad was sketchy. Mountain cabin available-Aug, Sept, Oct. Isolated, not remote. Close enough to town to be convenient. Lake view. Baldwin Realty and a telephone number. Evidently, the cabin is at Lake Baldwin, California. It doesn’t come right out and say so but that is a very logical conclusion, I think. This was the first time I’d seen an ad in my local paper for a rental so far away. It does make good sense to advertise where you think the clients might be though. I wonder why there is no reference to the rental amount? Probably would scare people off. I really need a getaway place for the summer. Money is an object but not a forbidding one. I have savings. But more than that, I need to save myself from the misery my apartment can be in the summer. It can’t hurt to just inquire, can it?

The Sunday paper is always filled with a lot of advertising. Usually, I just chuck the two or three sections that aren’t news or comics. Today I accidentally left the travel section tucked behind the comics and I actually looked at it. The first ad that caught my eye was the Lake Baldwin cabin. Instead of cutting out the ad, I read the rest of the ‘getaway’ ads. All of them had prices—and the prices were pretty high. The least amount I saw for a mountain getaway was $1750 a month. And the facilities didn’t sound too promising on that one. Most quoted weekend rates beginning at $600 and going up to a grand. So how much can the rent be for three months? In the mountains? Overlooking the lake? Well, I don’t ‘know’ that it overlooks the lake. The ad says lake view and that could mean anything. Overlooking may be wistful thinking. I folded the section and drew a dark line around the small ad. I will definitely call in the morning. As I am sure the 3-month rate will be outrageous, I’m keeping the whole section so I can review the rest of the ads. I really need to get away from here for a while. After I’ve had a good laugh at the outrageous rent they’ll quote, I will look for something else. Maybe.

Maybe I’ll just buy another fan.

After dinner I re-read the ad. It says the cabin is available August-September-October. It doesn’t say you have to rent it for all three months even though that was what I thought I had read originally. Compared to the other ads in that section, it is a strange little ad. What does it really mean?

My apartment has no decent air conditioning. I have lived in this little two-bedroom dump for over a decade. Too lazy to shop around, I guess. But this year—well, this year I am fast growing tired of ineffective air conditioning and the noise of my neighbors’ grandkids. The weather has been sweltering since Mother’s Day. That was six weeks ago and it seems that each week the daily high temperature is 5 degrees hotter than the week before. Most of my neighbors are in their fifties and sixties and have grandkids who have created their own wonderland in the common pool. In the good old days, like two or three years ago, I could use the pool in the evening after sundown. But these kids have made it almost impossible to swim or relax at any time, let alone in the evening. And you are unable to hear above their fracas right up to the pool’s 10 o’clock curfew, and sometimes beyond that. I cannot believe my witch of a manager hasn’t said a word to them. Instead of neighbor’s grandkids, maybe it’s the manager’s grandkids. She and her husband are old enough to maybe even have great-grandkids. Regardless, no matter who the kids belong to, I want out of town. I want peace and quiet. I want fresh air. I want to enjoy summer.

It’s highly unlikely that these apartments will ever be refitted with more than the single window air conditioner under the big window in the living room. The kids will be gone in a couple of months but, meanwhile, I’m dying here. So to find an ad that sounds like pure summer relief—well, it must be a good omen. As it is very unusual for me to read any of the classifieds in the Sunday paper, perhaps I was meant to see this particular listing. Do you believe in fate? Me neither, but sometimes it is the only ‘logical’ answer.

First thing Monday morning, well, first thing for me, I called the number listed in the ad. The telephone rang several times. Just when I thought an answering machine would click in, my cue to hang up without leaving a message, a man answered. Baldwin Realty, this is Sam. How may I help you today? He sounded a bit breathless; maybe he had to run to catch the phone before it was caught by the answering machine. I am sure that a real estate office has an answering machine.

I told him I had seen his ad in the Pasadena Star-News travel section and wanted a bit more information.

Evidently he has only the one ad running as the realtor, Sam, launched into a speech that he’s either given many times before or has it printed on a card in front of him. He carried on about the wonderful clean air, how good air quality makes you feel better. He raved about the mountain atmosphere, how quiet the area is. And then he raved about the water, pure clean fresh water directly from the tap. Finally I was able to interject a word. I had to talk over him to do it. I told him I’ve been to Lake Baldwin; I know what it’s like. I should have felt bad about interrupting him as he just seemed to run out of steam. He may have had another five wonderful minutes of dialogue.

He hadn’t gotten to the marvelous qualities of the cabin itself. It took him just a moment before he got back on track and extolled the various marvelous aspects of the cabin. Then he mentioned that I would love the quiet. I interrupted him again and said that was the whole reason I was calling. I needed some peace and quiet.

He said all I had to do was see the property and I would absolutely fall in love with it. I had no reason to disbelieve him about anything until he got to the price. I was expecting a high rent—as much as $3500 a month. But he quoted $1,000 a month with utilities if I signed a lease for the entire three months. I asked him if his client knew what he was asking as rent. Oh, yes, they knew. I was a bit skeptical. I had read several ads carefully yesterday. The usual rent in an area like Lake Baldwin is a thousand a weekend. Anywhere in the mountains, any time of year, commands high rents… even if the accommodations aren’t top-notch. What can be wrong with this property?

A thousand a month at Lake Baldwin for the summer? The rent for my crummy little place in the city is almost that and I pay my own utilities besides. What’s the deal? The realtor insisted there was no hidden agenda. The owner was just tired of having the place trashed weekend after weekend and was hoping to find one person or one couple to spend the rest of the summer in the cabin. It’s a small cabin—so the ten and twelve people who have been using it at a time were over loading the premises. The owner was tired of all the work, cleanup and remodeling. If I was interested, he’d meet me at the cabin the next morning. I questioned him more than once about the rental price as it was, and is, too amazing to believe. He assured me that the owners were just interested in recouping some of the expense from the winter without having to incur more during the summer.

I’m not really big on first impressions, especially on the telephone. It didn’t sound as though he was giving me a song and a dance. In fact, he sounded quite sincere. But my gut said something has to be wrong. Maybe not with him, himself, but there has to be a skunk in the woodpile somewhere.

I asked for directions.

The next morning I packed my camera and headed for the hills. His directions took me through Crestline and Running Springs. He said this route was not nearly as scenic as going through Redlands but was much quicker. This morning, I was interested in quicker. We agreed to meet at 9:30 at the cabin. I got there fifteen minutes early and he was already there. I wondered if he had had a lot of response to his ad. If I remember, I’ll ask him before I leave.

My first impression carried over. This was a nice and, I believe, honest man. Samuel Smit looked to be about seventy years old. I would have mistaken him for an accountant. He has that ‘bookish’ air about him. Not very tall—maybe five eight. And he seemed dressed exceptionally well for a small town realtor. Okay, I don’t really know how a small town realtor dresses but a suit and tie wasn’t my first thought. He could have been a professional man working in a big city office. Quiet, mild-mannered.

The cabin was small—two bedrooms, neither was very large but the smallest would make a perfect place to stash my computer so I could work on the days it rained or the times I didn’t feel like sitting on the porch. Actually, the cabin has several things my apartment doesn’t have—a nice view, a big porch and no neighbors. The cabin sits on a little knob that overlooks a good expanse of the lake and town. It indeed has a view of the lake… a magnificent view.

Both the kitchen and bathroom looked new… very new. I questioned Mr. Smit. He admitted that there had been a fire and portions of the cabin had been redone. The outside structure was sound. There was a direct line to EDS, the emergency detection system of the town. If a fire should happen, an alarm would ring in their office and he would be notified as well. But, he felt I was smart enough not to build a fire in the middle of the kitchen floor to bar-b-que just because it was snowing outside. He felt there was no real danger of fire… just stupidity. And he believed I didn’t look stupid. Additionally, there was only one of me. At the time of the fire, there had been 8 people staying in the cabin. I looked around. Where in the world would you put eight people? Wasn’t there even one of the eight smart enough to prevent someone else from building a fire on the kitchen floor? Stupid is a condition but ignorance is an option. Evidently none of them realized there could be a danger in building fires on wooden floors. Wonder what they’d been drinking?

The feature that thoroughly convinced me I should rent the cabin was the porch. It wrapped around 3 sides of the house and in so doing nearly doubled the footprint of the building. I reviewed the contract very carefully and could find no loopholes that would cost me a bundle at the end of the summer. I signed it. I could move in the first of August—a couple of weeks away. The realtor gave me directions to his office and told me he would have the keys, maps and other useful items waiting for me on the first. If I want to bring my own linens and bedding, fine. However, they were furnished along with pots, pans, dishes, etc. He said the telephone would be turned on before I moved in if I wanted a telephone. Cell phones don’t always work at Lake Baldwin. I said, Sure. Give me the number. He reminded me that I would be responsible for the cost of the telephone. I told him that was just fine with me. How much can a telephone cost for the summer? I don’t hang on the phone for hours and, at that moment, couldn’t even think of anyone I would want to call. Well, maybe my editor. Maybe.

I am surprised that you are renting to me so quickly. Weren’t there any other responses to your ad?

The ad has been running for a month. There have been other inquiries but most of them sounded a bit daft to me. Most were willing to pay the monthly rent to just come weekends and bring their friends. That is not what the owners want. You sounded sensible; you checked out. Yes, I ran a check on you yesterday. And you never mentioned weekends, weekend parties or friends. I feel confident that you would be the perfect tenant for this cabin.

Running for a month? I wonder how I missed it before? Well, I hope the check you ran told you that I am not gainfully employed—that I’m a writer.

The realtor laughed. Ms. McFannin, I recognized your name the minute you gave it to me. I almost didn’t run a credit check on you. Believe that or not. I am a fan of yours. Many of us in Lake Baldwin are.

I was embarrassed. But I was also pleased. He knew who I was and was still willing to rent to me. Wow! I sang all the way back to my city apartment.

There were things to do—newspaper delivery stop, mail forwarding, small stuff like that. I’m not a plant person so don’t have to worry about someone watering for me. I don’t have pets. Funny, the realtor never asked if I did or didn’t. If I had been renting a place for the summer to someone I didn’t know, I would have asked if they had pets. He had taken enough information to run a thorough check on me—except whether or not I have pets. Well, it is a cabin in the mountains. Maybe it makes no difference if you have a pet.

I had to get things in order at my apartment before leaving for the summer. I took a couple things to the bank to put in my safe deposit box. I cancelled the newspaper rather than put it on vacation hold. All it’ll take is a phone call to start again and you don’t get points for years of uninterrupted service or anything. My mailman advised me that there is no mail delivery system at Lake Baldwin so I should rent a box. But until then, I could forward my mail to General Delivery. He said the office is small enough it wouldn’t make much difference. It’s nice having a letter carrier that knows about other post offices.

I went around the house that last morning and unplugged anything