Lies Beneath Ellicott City

By P.J. Allen

Corrosive greed, public corruption, and environmental degradation intertwine in small, historic Ellicott City, on the Patapsco River that feeds into the Chesapeake Bay. Jack Tasker is a typical thirteen-year-old, save for being the nephew of a not so typical uncle, Ben Tasker, a loving surrogate dad though an irascible newspaper man. When the skeletal remains of a young girl, over a century old, surface at the reportedly haunted Patapsco Female Institute, the police are compelled to search the grounds for more bodies. Surprisingly, they find a newly murdered John Doe. Immediately Ben and Jack are also on the case. While the two pursue clues on the Institute grounds, an apparition surreptitiously leads them to discover a backpack in the hollow of a tree. Ben and Jack realize they have opened a Pandora’s box that could jeopardize forever the health and well-being of millions who rely on the Chesapeake watershed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728323442

P.J. Allen

P.J. Allen lives and writes in Frederick, MD. She earned a Ph.D. in Communication from Florida State University and works to promote education and health in developing countries in Asia, Eastern Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. Allen is also a licensed acupuncturist. Lies Beneath Ellicott City is her third novel, following the publication of Deadly Untruths, a political thriller, and The Yeti Quotient, a mystery. Her next novel depicts paranormal investigations by the Dulany Team in historic Frederick, MD.

Book preview

LIES

BENEATH

ELLICOTT CITY

A TASKER MYSTERY

P.J. ALLEN

46149.png

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2019 P.J. Allen. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/27/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-2345-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-2343-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-2344-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019912540

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1 (Two Months Later)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Epilogue

Dedication

For all the victims of corporate greed and environmental destruction.

PROLOGUE

The young man was running as fast as he could, but it was dark and the grass was slick from the recent summer rain, so his progress was slow. He knew a route that might lead to a hiding place so he took a quick turn into the woods and followed what appeared to be a deer path traversing up a long grade. In the distance, he could hear the car’s engine idling as though the driver was contemplating stopping and following him on foot. He slipped and crashed into a fallen tree trunk, ramming his shin into it and crying out loudly from the sharp pain.

He looked around straining to hear the car, but only silence filled the air. Squatting, he rubbed his shin while pulling out his cell phone. Not knowing what else to do, he hit the speed dial. They had only talked one other time since she’d walked out on him, calling him paranoid and crazy. It hadn’t been a good conversation at the time, and he‘d realized that any chance of reconciliation did not exist. Instead, he had relayed some directions as to where she should look for his meager belongings, in case something happened to him. She’d sighed and said okay, obviously distressed that he really thought something was going to happen to him. But now he desperately needed help.

The phone rang; there was no answer. Well, it was 3:00 in the morning. Maybe she’d left it in another room. Isabel, he whispered, hoping she would get up to get the message. It’s Andy. He heard a tree limb crack and turned quickly, straining to see. Nothing.

He continued whispering, I know you don’t believe me, but I am definitely being followed. Not just followed, chased. I’m on the grounds adjacent to the institute I mentioned to you before. Just then, off in the distance he heard more tree limbs cracking. He snapped the phone shut with the sudden realization that his former girlfriend couldn’t help him even if he could talk directly to her.

Andrew Harrington was in big trouble.

He stood up, glanced around, and quickly followed the deer path leading deeper into the woods. The clouds cleared suddenly, allowing a full moon to appear, revealing all kinds of shapes and shadows that until now had been masked in darkness. He tried to see if any of the shapes were human. Then he dropped. If he was looking to see the pursuer, that person would be looking, too. He hoped he had not been seen if the person was in fact now in the woods with him.

The moonlight disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, making it hard to see at all until his eyes could adjust to the blackness. As long as he was headed uphill, Andy felt he was heading toward the institute. He was sure the person chasing him was not familiar with these woods. This was to Andy’s advantage. The man would definitely become lost. He remained low to the ground in case the clouds cleared again and began to make his way on the difficult-to-distinguish path. Now he was more intent on being quiet rather than fast. He thought he could hear his heart pounding as he stepped as gingerly as possible, trying to avoid even the smallest twig.

Reflecting on his plight, he actually couldn’t believe it had come to this. True, he’d been right that there were those at the department where he’d worked up until the last six months as an Environmental Engineering Specialist who did not trust his research findings and had done everything they could to alter his reports. But given what he’d found out on his own time, with his own investigative digging, the department was basically a puppet to a much larger, a much more insidious entity made up of politicians, financiers, and extractors, that was in the process of snubbing its nose at any and all regulations … and at nanosecond speed. The outcome would be horrendous in Andy’s eyes. He had proof of it all, and they knew it.

Andy didn’t know how many were involved, but from the wiretaps he’d discovered in his apartment and on his phone, people were definitely aware of his work. They had even attached a tracker to the underside of his old Toyota, which had taken him weeks to figure out. And now for the first time he’d evaded them and they were mad. He didn’t know how far they would go to stop him, but he was scared. Maybe they’d threaten to blacklist him from future employment; or maybe, on the other hand, they would try to bribe him. Pay him for his silence. He just didn’t know.

He finally reached the highest point yet on the path. Lying prostrate, he looked down across the trees. The institute loomed, for some reason ominously, on the next crest. Perhaps it was the silhouetted construction equipment surrounding it that gave it the appearance of a casualty, though he knew its purpose was to refurbish the ancient structure. He listened intently, trying to slow his breathing and calm his thoughts. If he could hide himself within the crumbling walls of the institute he could call the police, but to call them from somewhere in the woods would be ludicrous.

He heard the snap of a twig too late to see the man. The cold steel from the barrel of the gun against the back of his skull followed instantaneously just as the voice spoke. You measly, nosey, self -righteous prick. Do you know how much time and money you’ve cost me? Andrew lay very still, saying nothing. He could feel perspiration run down the back of his neck. Then, though barely perceptible, he sensed the presence of another person. Yes, he was standing to his left. He could sense the person breathing and could feel heat; he or she must be very close.

Scared didn’t even begin to describe his emotions by this point. This isn’t what he’d expected. Get up! the man said, pressing the gun harder into his head as he pulled him up by the collar. Don’t even think of turning around. Now move, he ordered, pushing Andy in the direction of the institute. Off in the distance, in what was truly a surreal moment, Andy could hear the car’s motor start up. Could there be three of them? Should he run or should he obey the man’s orders; which would be the more prudent, the safer route to bet on? he wondered. Problem was, Andy had never been good at betting.

CHAPTER 1 (TWO MONTHS LATER)

You tell the next story, Keith. You’ve always got good scary tales to tell, the boy eagerly requested.

I don’t know any new ones, Keith replied, with a grin that said of course I have a new scary story to tell.

Then tell an old one. Tell that one about the catacombs in St. Paul’s Roman Catholic Church. It’s how you tell it more than anything, Matt, the younger boy urged. The church was located in the historic part of Ellicott City, and its basement had been used as a hospital for both Northern and Southern soldiers. No one knew why the church had the catacombs. Some speculated that in 1838, when the church was built, the priests were concerned about persecution and wanted to protect their parishioners in case ill will evolved among different religions. Others were convinced it was built to be part of the underground railway for runaway slaves. Regardless, the folklore about why the catacombs were there and the fact that the basement had been a hospital provided ample fodder for ghost stories.

Yes, but don’t get too gory or scary. I don’t want your parents complaining, Mr. Jordan, the Phys Ed teacher, interjected. The boys and girls were sitting around the huge crackling bonfire at the Patapsco Female Institute Historic Park, following a long hayride from across town. It was Halloween. They all laughed at Mr. Jordan’s comment. The parents loved Mr. Jordan. He was young, energetic, and innovative. Since he’d arrived in Ellicott City a little over a year ago, he had transformed the Middle School sports activities into competitive but fun regular events. This Halloween hayride was a first. Both the middle school and related high school had pooled their hard-earned resources to rent the horses, wagons, hay, and food. So it was hard to see how the parents could get mad at their beloved Mr. Jordan.

There were at least three hundred kids of varying ages and a couple dozen teachers and parents serving as chaperones milling around the grounds and hanging out around the fire, which had been started by the volunteer fire department. The firemen were watching it closely to ensure that there were no accidents, but they were enjoying themselves, too. The music and barbeque were plentiful, and the weather had maintained a rather humid and cool but not too cold atmosphere. Unfortunately, the high humidity foretold of an imminent storm. So, what are ya waiting for? Matt pleaded again.

Keith, a tall, gangly sixteen-year-old with a shock of black hair took an exaggerated deep breath, as though he was ready to give the speech of a lifetime, but launched into a ghost tale instead. Actually, the story I am about to tell, the true story, he added, occurred right over there, Keith pointed at the somewhat refurbished but still crumbling building situated in the park, over 160 years ago.

The murmuring among the dozen or so boys and girls quickly dissipated as they began to listen.

The building back then, he motioned toward it again, represented money and prestige. It was the school for the rich and beautiful girls that made up the antebellum society in this here state, Keith continued, proffering a bit of a Southern accent. Many of the younger kids continued to stare in the direction of the building silhouetted simultaneously by the moon and stars and reflecting shadows from the flames of the bonfire, their eyes wide as saucers. Now the headmistress, a woman by the name of Eliza DoGood … The boys began to snicker upon hearing her name. . . . was a prim and proper lady. She had begun her career at the school as a student herself. It never occurred to her that she would still be there forty-five years later. But, Keith paused looking at the boys and girls, she was still at the school for one reason only. What do you think that reason was? he asked, engaging the small but growing crowd. No one knew. Because she was a spinster, an old maid, he replied, with a tone of disregard.

The children all nodded, knowing the phrase and knowing it did not sound good.

However, Keith continued, it was not her fault. She had been engaged at one point to a very handsome young man named Michael Lafont, a dandy from Louisiana who had moved to Maryland, and to be exact Ellicott City, to work as an accountant for the mill. You know what happened to him? Again, the kids just shook their heads. He was crossing Heart Beat Bridge on a winter’s night when his horse slipped on some black ice. Bam!

Keith clapped his hands together for effect, causing the engrossed children to jump where they sat.

Michael somehow got caught under the horse, and because it had broken its leg, he was pinned down. Given the temperature and the dampness, he and the horse froze to death! When Eliza did not hear from him the next day she sounded the alarm. Folks began tracking him immediately, knowing that he would have had to cross the river in order to get home. They found him soon after their search began, right where Michael and his horse had fallen. Keith whispered loudly. Everyone was especially quiet. They all knew of Heart Beat Bridge, which was part of Bonnie Branch Road, a narrow and spooky thoroughfare, especially at night. And they knew the story about it.

When young Eliza heard the news, she was devastated. She vowed never to marry because Michael was the only love of her life. Years later, because of her family’s good name and wealth and the city’s respect for her, the Patapsco Female Institute’s board of trustees offered her the headmistress job. For many years, Miss DoGood remained the most admired woman in town. She was a great role model for the students. Parents felt good about sending their girls to the school, knowing it was a safe place to be.

Keith could tell at this point that the kids were becoming restless, talking among themselves. Hearing about an old maid headmistress was simply not exciting. He decided to pick it up a bit.

It was about this time, the time of her forty-fifth anniversary as the school’s headmistress that Miss DoGood’s behavior began to change. She had begun to be resentful of the girls; resentful of their youth, their beauty, and their future. She began making them do chores and work in the kitchen with the help. They didn’t know what to think. Dark rumors, rumors that maybe something was wrong with Miss DoGood, began to spread. Soon, Keith paused, raising his index finger, straight up, parallel to his face, the resentment turned to anger and hatred, all of it boiling just beneath the surface. She was, as people attested to later, apparently going mad.

Jack Tasker watched in awe of his best friend’s big brother as Keith Giles mesmerized the crowd and scared the britches off the younger children. Scott Giles was home with a bad cold, or else he would be watching this with Jack.

Keith was a born actor. Everyone talked about him going into politics or going to Hollywood. Whatever path he chose, he was destined to succeed. Now he abruptly stood, waving his arm again at the building. She lived in the far corner, the part that is still standing, he added, somewhat ominously.

The bonfire had reached a crescendo at this point, and a light wind had picked up, so its tall shadows on the building appeared even more threatening, as though they would consume it. The living quarters were quite substantial, and in earlier years, she entertained a lot; parties during the holidays, parties for the beginning and ending of the semesters, parties all the time. No more. Keith shook his head, as though he himself had been affected by the discontinuation of such joyous entertainment. No more. Instead, at night, after all of the girls had gone to bed, she wandered the hallways, carrying a lantern high up, Keith showed them how, as though searching for something she had lost. Her nightgown was long and flowing, and her gray, wiry hair, which she normally tied in a knot as was the style of the day, flowed behind her, almost as if it were a cape. I’ve read in newspaper articles that a Mr. Sprigg, the night watchman at the Main Depot Building, would pass by the institute every night at 12:20, as he walked home from work. He probably walked right along the woods path, right there. Keith pointed toward the row of trees, not far from where they were all huddled. Everyone turned to observe where he was pointing.

Well, it was this Mr. Sprigg, he continued, persuading the crowd to turn back to him, who began to notice the lantern. He could tell it was Miss DoGood by the thin shape, rapid walk, and flying hair. He had begun to feel sorry for her. It was reported in one article that Mr. Sprigg said, ‘She looked like an animal.’ What she was thinking as she wandered through the stone cold halls, night after night, no one knows. Then, one night, it was, I can’t remember which night, Keith stopped himself, obviously thinking hard, oh yeah he said, snapping his fingers upon memory, it was October thirty-first. Yes, I remember reading that on October thirty-first Miss DoGood finally cracked, he informed the kids, imitating the breaking of a limb across his upraised knee.

Again he pointed to the remains of the corner of the building, which by now were encased in dark shadows due to the dwindling fire and the clouds that had slowly filled the night skies. In just minutes, Jack noticed, a bit taken aback himself, it looked like a different building, menacing. Actually, he could feel the hairs rise on the back of his neck, and he shivered slightly. It’s the wind, he convinced himself.

Now Keith’s voice became graver. What had she done on this dark, rainy Halloween night in 1856? he inquired. What had a woman, a frail one by all accounts, done? She had entered the room of Rosemary Carpenter, the prettiest girl in the school, and smothered her with her own pillow. Then she sliced her face off and plastered the sheets of delicate skin on her own face, allowing the blood to behave like glue.

Yuuuuck, the attentive listeners said in unison.

When the authorities first found poor Eliza DoGood hanging from a beam in her room, they couldn’t understand what they were seeing. The face was so strange looking, so abnormal, so unworldly. It was not until they discovered Rosemary’s body that the facts came to be understood. Yes, it was a sad day when the police officer and his lieutenant found Miss DoGood hanging in her quarters, he repeated, again pointing. To this day, people who walk by the institute at night, right around the same time Mr. Sprigg used to walk by, will see Eliza DoGood, roaming the halls in search of a pretty face.

At this instant, and Jack could have sworn he saw it, a light shone from the small remaining gaping window, where the hanging surely occurred. It was ever so fast, but it was enough. The children jumped and scattered in fear, so Jack knew they had seen it, too. How bizarre. He looked at Keith who was laughing, raising his hands out to his sides in gesture. What perfect timing. What was that? Do you know?

Nope, Jack said, standing up. He was now very tall for his thirteen years. Not a clue. I thought you had orchestrated it.

Nah, I wish I could have, Keith said, laughing. I’m sure it was just a reflection of something. Hah, lucky me. I hope they’re not too scared though, he added, a bit concerned.

Don’t worry, Jack replied, looking around. Anyway, Mr. Jordan left halfway through your story, no offense.

None taken, Keith said, grinning. Let’s go help get everyone back in the wagons. Looks like rain, he commented, glancing up at the skies that had darkened beyond blackness.

CHAPTER 2

Mr. and Mrs. James Beals, serving as chaperones, were taking a final look around the grounds before hitching a ride on the last wagon out. Their two children, Joe and Martha, twins who just celebrated their thirteenth birthdays, had left on the first wagon out. Now the couple had split up and were talking to each other by walkie-talkies. Everything cleaned up where you are, honey? Jim asked his wife of eighteen years.

Yeah, I think so. I’m a bit disturbed. I just threw a few beer cans into the trash. I can’t tell if they’re from tonight or another night.

Let’s give everyone the benefit of the doubt, Jim replied, frowning a bit. Everything has been so good that I don’t want to think anyone took advantage of the evening. Just like the other parents, he was a fan of the middle school and Mr. Jordan. And Jim was a part-time volunteer coach at many of the events. He said they kept him in shape, which was only partially true. Jim was a kid at heart.

That’s what I decided, too, Holly said. Okay, let me make sure there’s no more trash around, and then I’ll be coming from the south side of the institute. Is everyone loaded up?

Jim looked over his shoulder at the wagon. Three kids were left standing in line, waiting to climb on. Looks that way.

Nothing.

Holly, you there? He thought he could hear her on the other end, though she wasn’t speaking. You there? he asked again, looking up at the sky, noting the congruence of thunder clouds.

Jim, come here.

Where? Where are you now?

On the south side. Come here.

Are you okay? Again, no response.

Jim turned around and tried to figure out where she was. It would take too long to go all the way around the building from where he stood. He decided to cut through what used to be a courtyard and then through the remains of the building to get to its other side. He shone his flashlight toward his destination. It was dark. Lightning flashed. How strange for this time of year, he thought. He glanced back at the wagon, kids, and other chaperones. The horse looked antsy. Go ahead and take the kids home, he spoke into the walkie-talkie to Ned, one of the chaperones on the wagon.

We’ll wait. What’s up?

No, we’ll walk home. The Beals lived in an old house near the courthouse that had belonged to Jim’s family for generations. The kids need to get home, and it looks like a bad storm might be coming. Don’t worry. Holly just wants to clean up some garbage that was left behind.

Okay, Ned said. Stay dry. Over and out. Ned loved the walkie-talkie gizmos.

Honey, you there? Jim asked again as he started toward the courtyard.

Jim, where are you? Come on, you’ve got to see this.

On my way, he said as he tried to avoid tripping on the loose rocks and occasional plants that covered the grounds around the courtyard. He moved quickly. As he crossed the courtyard, the winds picked up. Now large drops of rain started to fall intermittently, as though the sky could not make up its mind. He tried the walkie-talkie again as he entered the open building. Holly, you still there?

Yeah, I’m here, please hurry.

He thought she sounded like she was crying. Jim headed toward her, making sure he didn’t run into one of the many wooden pillars apparently strategically but not uniformly placed throughout the semi-open structure. He passed one of the crumbling old fireplaces and saw a small frightened animal run into it, disappearing into its darkness. Finally, he could see the woods through an archway. He nimbly moved along and reached the threshold, shining his light into the outside. At first he could not see her; it was so dark except where he shone his light, so he waved it around slowly. I’m here, Holly, where are you?

Over here.

He moved his light to his right, but still didn’t see her at first. Then he realized she was huddling on the ground, leaning over something, picking at something that was in the ground, in the alcove between a chimney and the building’s wall. He walked toward her. She was a slight woman, and given that she was so close to the ground, his light had simply been too high to catch her. Plus, she was in the shadows of the building. The large rain drops had become more frequent, and he could hear thunder in the distance.

Honey, what is it? Where’s your flashlight? Never mind, we better go. I told Ned to leave, so we’re going to have to walk, or run, he added, glancing up at the sky again.

Jim, look at this, Holly said, turning toward him.

Jeez, Holly, what is that? Jim asked alarmed, looking beyond her muddied outstretched hand that was holding something silver, to what he perceived to be, could it be, bones? Are those what I think they are?

It’s so sad, Holly said, nodding and starting to sob.

Jim knelt down next to her, propped the flashlight up on a rock so its beam covered some of the area that had been recently dug up. He then took the pointed stick from her hand and started digging with it just as she had been digging. I don’t think you should touch any of this, Jim said, concerned. His wife looked terrible. There was tear-stained dirt all over her face, and he now noticed her fingernails were bleeding, as if she had started to dig without an implement. By now it was raining hard, and lightning was everywhere.

Suddenly Jim jumped, startled as a rather large bone appeared. Then he realized with horror what it was. He looked around and located a flat broad stone that he used in conjunction with the stick to slide the skull onto. He gingerly laid it next to the other bones that Holly had already lined up. The hole was now quickly becoming filled with water. A sharp crack of lightning frightened them both, and the rain was now coming down in torrents. Let’s move to cover, Jim said, putting his arms around Holly’s shoulders, helping to lift her from her position. He urged her inside a lean-to area that still had a roof, albeit a leaky one. He had forgotten his flashlight, which continued to shine eerily into the hole, which was filling with more water, forcing more bones loose. They were floating, or rather bobbing sporadically, so one would appear as another disappeared. Holly turned her face into his shoulder and wept, her own shoulders shuddering from time to time. Jim held her tight. Shhhh. It’s okay. We’ll call the authorities and let them know. Have you recently heard of any missing children in the area? he asked gingerly.

Holly tried unsuccessfully to stop crying. Sheee, shee’sss old.

No, Holly, they’re the bones of a young person, Jim said soothingly.

No, no, no. I, I mean, I mean the bones are old. This was with them, and once again she held out the silver object for him to see. It was an ancient hand-held mirror.

Oh.

As the storm raged and the lightning and thunder continued, the couple stood embracing each other, looking out at the recently exposed gravesite, with no words to speak.

CHAPTER 3

Coach Jordan was making his way home along the Bonnie Branch Road following the very successful hayride and bonfire event with the students. He had to admit, he was pleased with himself. Hmm, he thought. What can I do for Thanksgiving that will top this? He looked up just as another streak of lightning crossed the sky. The thunder