Darker Secrets

By Lynn Woolley

Do you want to know a secret?   Presenting sixteen enticing tales of suspense and detection, each containing a deep dark secret that invariably becomes the key to a mystery.  Can a simple emotion destroy an ancient vampire?  How will an advertising executive stop evil mirrors from stealing his soul?  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Planet Logic Press
• Release date: Oct 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781088055793

Lynn Woolley

LYNN WOOLLEY is the author of four books on broadcasting and politics. He hosted the "Lynn Woolley Show" on several Texas radio stations for more than 25 years and currently hosts the "Planet Logic" podcast. His career has included stints as a radio news anchor in Dallas and Austin, a political writer for The Dallas Morning News, and co-host of the Children's Miracle Network Telethon in the Waco-Temple market. He holds a bachelor's degree from the University of Texas at Austin.

Book preview

Vampires of Jamesport

A 150-year old vampire is on the prowl in Jamesport as a private investigator assembles a rag-tag band of police and townspeople to hunt him down. This tale is a companion to a prior story entitled One Kind Favor in which a different vampire stalks our fair city. I began this story on February 18, 2007, and completed three chapters. I resumed writing again on March 21, 2020, made a few adjustments to the early chapters, and concluded on March 28.

Chapter 1: Lucie loses her head

Lucie Clarke hissed and snarled as she faced her pursuers. She was in a blind alley just off the gaslit avenues of Victorian London. She was trapped and she knew it.

I’m not the one you want, she spewed, showing fangs.

But it’s you we’ve got, said one of the men.

Inspector Everett Jennings arrived on the scene.

Careful, he screamed at his men — a dozen or so of them. Don’t look into her eyes!

Lucie glanced around at the two brick walls beside her and the high fence behind her. She would have to take her chances with the men. She took two cautious steps forward. The men backed up.

Lucie broke the silence with a hiss, and then was quiet again. The men could almost hear their own heartbeats along with the clippety-clop of a distant hansom cab.

At last, Jennings softly spoke. All right, men. Let’s take her!

Jennings reached into his coat and brought forth a crucifix. Holding it outward from his body, he moved toward her. She hissed loudly, backing up to the fence and shielding her face from the burning of the powerful religious symbol.

Let me go, she pleaded. Let me go and I’ll tell you where to find Thomas!

Jennings was tempted. He knew, or strongly suspected, that the vampire whose bite had turned Lucie Clarke into a monster was the man – the thing – that he had pursued for so many long years.

Miss Clarke, said Jennings, I hardly think that I could trust you. I do not believe that you will lead me to Thomas Corbyn. And a vampire in the hand is certainly worth two in the bush.

The men, by this time, had taken her arms. Three on each arm to hold her even in her state of weakness from the crucifix.

Let me go, she again pleaded. I will lead you to him. I solemnly promise. But only if you pledge to let me go.

It would be a service to mankind, said one of the men. And we have no other leads.

Suppose I agree to your bargain, Miss Clarke, said Jennings. I would think that he is your master. How can you betray him?

You are right that he is my master, said Lucie. But tonight, he is perhaps occupied with the hunt. Tonight, I am not under his spell.

Tell me, Miss Clarke, asked Jennings, why is it that you have risen from your grave as a vampire when we have no record of any other of Thomas’ victims ever having done so? If you will be so good as to explain that, perhaps we can make a bargain.

"I’ll tell you – if we have a deal," she said.

You must first promise not to attempt escape and you must lead us to Thomas’ coffin. If we find it, we will let you go with a day’s head start before we search for you again.

A hard bargain, Inspector. What is my alternative?

Jennings nodded to one of his men who produced a long, sharp wooden stake and a heavy wooden mallet.

That’s your alternative my good woman. Right here and now.

She showed fangs. It seems that I have no choice. Thomas’ coffin is in the basement of the Addington apartment building. I will lead you there if you will put away that accursed cross.

Unhand Miss Clarke, said Jennings. And keep your crosses out of sight so as not to cause her any further pain. He put his own crucifix away.

It was still early night and the typical London fog had rolled in from England’s imperial seas. This strange group – the Inspector, a dozen or so of his men, and the very beautiful undead woman named Lucie Clarke – walked to the nearby apartment house.

You were about to explain this discrepancy in Thomas’ methods, said Jennings, still avoiding her eyes.

The vampire allowed a faint smile. Yes, she said in her raspy voice. Thomas may very well be a master vampire, but he is a man. He succumbed to my charms even as I succumbed to his.

Are you saying… began Jennings.

I am saying, said Lucie, that Thomas Corbyn fell in love with me.

Some of the men began to talk. Jennings hushed them up. And for that reason, you are claiming he did not prevent you from rising as a vampire?

Most men desire a companion. Thomas is no different, she said.

But never before…

Thomas is no fool! said Lucie. He is a very old vampire. In all the years since he rose, he has finished off every victim with a stake or with Holy Water. He has left no trail of victims rising from the dead. He could not bear to do that to me.

And yet, you will betray him in order to save yourself, said Jennings.

And if you were in my place, Inspector, you would do the same. After all, Thomas is the one who drank my blood and made me what I am.

Yes. But for Thomas, you would be a normal girl.

But for Thomas I would not walk the night, hunting, craving blood.

All the same, said Jennings, I have no desire to mislead you. If we find Thomas’ coffin, we’ll let you go. Once we destroy him, we will have no choice but to seek you out again and destroy you as well.

They came upon the tenement known as the Addington. It was a rundown apartment building catering to the lower echelon of London’s population – a perfect hiding spot for a coffin that must be shielded from the sun.

This is it, said Lucie. You will find Thomas’ coffin in the cellar.

What if Thomas is in there right now? asked one of the men. It took six of us to hold her, and he will be stronger.

She says he might be out tonight, said Jennings.

Or was it last night that he was hunting? snarled Lucie. That’s for you to find out when you open his coffin.

And if we find him there, we will take him. You will see for yourself.

No, she insisted. If Thomas is there, I would fall under his spell again. I agreed to lead you to his coffin – only his coffin. I did not promise to lead you to Thomas himself. I must not be present when you confront him.

I know full well what our bargain was, said Jennings, who knew what had to be done. Finally he said to one of the men, We’ll go into the cellar and find the coffin if it is there, and we’ll guard it until he returns before dawn.

And what of our bargain? hissed Lucie.

We owe you nothing, said Jennings, until it is proven that you have indeed led us to the coffin.

You are fools, she said. Thomas is hunting, and when he returns, he will be strong from new blood. He will destroy you. And since I have kept my part of the agreement, I will be free and far from here.

That remains to be seen, said Jennings. However, my word is good. If we discover his coffin, I will honor our agreement.

Lucie considered making a run for it, but the men had her surrounded. Several of them were holding out their crucifixes, and Lucie was weakening under the onslaught. Pedestrians were beginning to notice and Jennings, not wanting a scene, instructed six of the men to take her to the nearest church, call a priest, and hold her until Jennings and the others could finish their business here.

While Lucie was being forced into the police wagon, Jennings and the other six men entered the apartment building.

A desk clerk met them and offered his assistance.

Scotland Yard! stated Jennings. We are searching for Thomas Corbyn.

Mr. Corbyn is usually out during the evenings, said the clerk. And I have orders not to disturb him during the day. That’s when he sleeps.

Is he out this evening? asked Jennings.

Well, I’m not entirely sure, said the clerk. He has been a guest for only a few days. If you like, I will check to see if he might be in and whether he would receive visitors.

Jennings stroked his chin. Perhaps it would be ungentlemanly to disturb him since he works at night. However, in the alternative, do you happen to know if Mr. Corbyn stores any of his – furniture – in your basement? If so, I should like to inspect it. I could send one of the men to obtain a warrant.

The old clerk thought for a moment, then decided cooperation was his best avenue. I’m sure it would be all right, Inspector. The stairs are over here. It will take just a moment to fetch a lantern.

Jennings felt a surge of excitement. He’d stalked this vampire for years – had become obsessed with Thomas’ destruction. He’d never before gotten this close. Maybe this would be the time that he would drive a stake through the heart of London’s most vicious murderer since Jack the Ripper. In his mind, he was rapidly going over all the ways that it could happen. Thomas might be sleeping in tonight. If so, the men would shower him with crosses and he, Jennings, would drive the stake through the heart. If Thomas were hunting tonight as Lucie had suggested, then Jennings would patiently wait. The vampire would most certainly seek out his coffin before the dawn.

They began the descent into darkness with only the lantern to light the way.

At the church, Lucie Clarke’s hiss had devolved into a low growl.

She’s acting just like an animal, Father, said one of the men, quite concerned.

Keep the crosses high, said the Priest and the power of God will protect us all until Inspector Jennings’ arrival."

The Priest found a table used in the sacraments, and covered it with white linen. Lucie, drunk from the pain of the crosses, was barely conscious as the men placed her atop the table. The Priest crossed her hands just below her breasts. She was beautiful in the low light of the church, a beauty that had apparently intoxicated the elusive master vampire.

Here in the church, her power was diminished. She would remain calm for a while.

At the apartment building, Jennings and his men were navigating around boxes and crates and other things that people store in dark places. Soon enough, they came upon a coffin.

This isn’t Thomas’ coffin, exclaimed Jennings. It’s not large enough for a man his size. This looks like a woman’s coffin.

A coffin! My, my! said the clerk. I had no idea that Mr. Corbyn was in the mortuary business.

He must have known that he’d made a mistake in allowing Lucie to rise, said Jennings ignoring the old gentleman. Caution told him to move on.

At least we still have the other vampire, said one of the men. Shall we join the others at the church?

The Priest was keeping a strict watch over Lucie when Jennings and the men arrived.

Father, thank you for your assistance in this matter, said the Inspector. Now let’s remove those crosses for just a moment so that I may speak to her.

The men, wary as ever, removed the crucifixes surrounding her body.

Miss Clarke, said Jennings when he could see that she had her wits about her. I am sorry to inform you that the master vampire has moved on.

She realized what he was saying. There was no coffin? Then our bargain is…

I’m afraid so, Miss Clarke. We have a duty to perform. Please understand that we have absolutely no choice.

The men approached with the crosses. She was done for and she knew it. She made a vain attempt to hiss and show fangs, but she was in a church and surrounded by powerful symbols of Christianity. She could not fight.

The Priest began to recite the Lord’s Prayer. Upon hearing the words, Lucie’s eyes opened wide with terror as she saw what the men were preparing to do.

As the Priest stood by, one of the men laid his crucifix upon Lucie’s breasts as if she were wearing it as a necklace. Her eyes closed. She screamed in pain. Then came the stake and the hammer and it was done.

The Priest gently opened Lucie’s mouth and filled it with salt, and then sewed the mouth shut. When that was done, he took a large knife from the church’s kitchen and removed her head. The remains were placed in a large wooden box, along with a cross, for burial. Lucie Clarke was now truly dead. She would not prowl the night for centuries. She would never take a human life, never become a master vampire.

What do we do now? asked one of the men.

We search for Thomas! said Jennings. I make this vow. I shall never rest until by my hand Thomas Corbyn has been destroyed.

Chapter 2: A vampire arrives in Jamesport

Jamesport, county seat of Commodore County – where millions of people go about their everyday lives never pondering what may take place in the dark of the night.

On this particular night, a black late-model Ford Expedition pulled into a tenement building not far from the waterfront.

Is it good, Mr. Grant? asked the middle-aged man behind the wheel. Did I do good? Did I, Mr. Grant?

The sign said Chapman House. Rooms to let. That second part flashed off and on in neon lights.

Fine, Bud, replied Grant. You did just fine. In fact, I think this will do nicely.

I’m a good manager, aren’t I, Mr. Grant? asked Bud.

You are my assistant, Bud. I always hire an assistant when I come to a new city.

William Bud Jeffers had been out of work for a long time when he had spoken to Mr. Martin Grant by phone about the manager position. Well, that’s what it was to Bud. That the referral had come through a local tavern that Mr. Grant had contacted at random did not matter. Neither did the fact that Mr. Grant had asked some rather strange questions about what Bud might be willing to do. Bud simply did not care. He swore his loyalty to his new master and in return, he was being paid a handsome salary — money such as he’d never seen. Too much money for an assistant. It was a salary fit for the most qualified of managers — exactly what Bud now fancied himself to be.

Now Bud, please back the vehicle carefully into the garage, said Grant. We have a rather…cumbersome piece of furniture that we must move into the basement at once.

Bud did exactly as instructed. That’s what he’d been doing for the past month after the first money arrived by mail. He’d found a sleazy leasing agent and together, they had combed the waterfront. Mr. Grant desired to lease a business of some sort here in Jamesport – something already established so that he could maintain a steady income while he went about his nightly chores. The business was to include a significant piece of real estate with a main garage in which he could store his vehicle. It also was a requirement that the property include a spacious basement with easy access from the garage area. Mr. Grant had impressed upon Bud how important it was that the basement be completely sealed from the sun so as to remain in total darkness during the day. And he should see to it that the basement could be locked from the inside. All these things, he had accomplished.

Do you like it, Mr. Grant? asked Bud excitedly. It’s a good apartment building, isn’t it? I paid the first month’s rent in cash just like you instructed. That’s what Grant wanted. A lease under a false name with fake papers, all cash transactions and off the books and with Bud acting as the front man. If things went badly, Grant could do as he’d done many times before. He could simply break the lease and leave town in a hurry.

You’re a good boy, Bud, said Grant. Bud was 43.

Grant stepped out of the Expedition and surveyed the spacious garage. Where do the tenants park? he asked.

There’s a big parking lot in the back, replied Bud. That’s good, isn’t it?

Grant sighed. That’s good, Bud, he said.

Motioning for Bud to wait in the garage, he stepped through a side door, leading to a hallway. There was a wide door in the hall that, had he measured it, he would have found it to be accommodating of most large appliances. Nice.

He opened the door and followed the staircase with his eyes, right into the soul of darkness. But for the rats, the basement was as silent as a grave. It was indeed good. He’d have to tell Bud.

He was just closing the door when a middle-aged woman stepped into the hallway. She was startled at first to see the large looming hulk of Martin Grant. Then it dawned on her and she asked, Are you the new landlord?

My name is Martin Grant, he said. I have a room. The, uh, manager, Mr. Jeffers can assist you.

She wasted no time with pleasantries. Up on the third floor, we’ve got a bad leak in the bathroom and I had to turn off the water. Can he get it fixed for us right away?

Her voice was firm and her gaze never left him. She could be trouble, he thought. He never should have let her see him.

Still, the tenement was a perfect front, and the customer was always right.

I’ll alert him for you. Mr. Jeffers will be happy to make the repairs, I’m certain, Miss…

MRS. Holtzclaw, she snarled. Mr. Holtzclaw and I thank you very much. She turned and went back into the building.

Back in the garage, Grant forgot to tell Bud what a great job he had done. Bud, would you please take your tools and repair a leak for Mrs. Holtzclaw on the third floor. And be quick about it. We have precious cargo that cannot wait for very long. Now, go!

Bud did as he was instructed. That’s what Bud always did.

An hour later, an apologetic Bud was searching the grounds for Martin Grant, finding him in the back of the building, gazing into the night.

I’m sorry, Mr. Grant. It was a bad leak. I made kind of a mess with the water and Mrs. what’s-her-name got mad at me. But I got it fixed. You’re not sore at me are you, Mr. Grant?

Grant wasn’t sore at him. Bud, he whispered, Forget about her. Let’s talk about what you’d do if a perfectly gorgeous young creature walked through that door and asked you to show her an apartment.

A creature, Mr. Grant? said Bud. We don’t allow no pets. Not any at all. I see to that!

Grant rolled his eyes impatiently. Bud, I was referring to a woman. Come here Bud.

Bud walked over and Grant placed his arms on the man’s shoulder. Bud, of the finer things in this old world, nothing is so fragile or so desirable as a beautiful woman.

Yessir, Mr. Grant, agreed Bud who had never had one.

The blood in our veins sustains us without our even thinking about it. All our possessions are easily replaceable from our mother’s milk to the finest wine. Ah, but a woman of great beauty. She is unique, a wonder to behold.

Bud was enthralled with the speech, or at least he was smart enough to seem as if he was. Grant continued.

Beauty is the one thing that does not last, he said. Beauty is temporary, fickle, not eternal. Beauty must be savored and enjoyed in the moment.

Bud pretended to understand.

Never mind, said Grant. Put away your wrenches. We have something important to move into the basement.

The coffin, covered with a dark blanket, sat in the back of the Expedition. Grant reached for two of its handles and effortlessly pulled it forward. I could do this myself if not for the bulkiness of it, he said to Bud. Have you got it?

Yessir, Mr. Grant. I won’t drop it. No sir!

They brought the casket into the dark basement and placed it in a far corner. Grant opened it and scattered some loose dirt inside.

It’s a really pretty, er, casket, sir! stammered Bud.

Grant’s long and slender fingers reached out and clasped Bud’s scrawny neck, but did not squeeze. And whom shall you tell about my, shall we say, unique sleeping habits?

I’m not going to tell no one, sir! No one at all, said Bud.

That’s exactly right, said Grant. Now, here’s a bonus for you. A hundred dollars just for helping me tonight and for keeping my secrets. Nothing’s too good for my manager.

Bud flashed a grin. You can depend on me, Mr. Grant, he said.

Yes, I think I can, said Grant. Now as we discussed, I’m going to be very busy during the day, and you will be in charge of the tenement. Can you do that, Bud?

Oh yessir. I can fix leaks and plugs that don’t work and take rent checks to the bank to be cashed.

And you can press my suits, said Grant.

I’ll always have them ready for when you want to go out, sir, said Bud.

We’ll be going out at night, Bud. You’re going to help me find some of that beauty that must exist in a city such as Jamesport.

What do you mean by that, Mr. Grant?

I mean that I’m going to be hunting for beautiful creatures, said Grant. And you’re going to help me.

Chapter 3: Jack at the Rag Doll

One could refer to the Rag Doll as a lounge or strip bar if one so wished; the management preferred the more refined gentleman’s club. The distinction may have been minor since gentlemen certainly showed up for the purpose of being in the company of lovely women.

The Rag Doll, or just The Doll as most people called it, was a few blocks off the waterfront and away from the high crime area so the upper crust of Jamesport’s business and financial community could stop in for a drink and, if they were lucky, a personal dance or song.

Jack McClary, a machinist by trade, had stopped by The Doll one evening for a brew and some relaxation after a long day. Somewhere in the back of his mind, this seemed like a way to exact some revenge against his former fiancée who had left him for someone else just weeks ago. Not that she’d ever know about it.

Still, Jack fancied this as a way to be near beautiful women with no responsibility and no commitment. Just pay the cover charge and leave when you feel like it. Hell of a deal.

It was Friday night and The Doll was bustling. Jack saw one open seat near the back of the room and moved toward it. It was a table for two, but there was just one guy sitting there, sipping a beer and taking in the scenery.

"This seat