The Caine Plantation: The Next Quilt is Red Read online

  Dark Lady's Message

  Present Day,

  Kathy Marconi leaned her slim, fit body over the table to examine the closing paperwork. She tucked a lock of her dark red hair behind her ear, so she could read without it hanging in her face. She had traveled from New York City, to this tiny town in Southern Louisiana to investigate a freak investment opportunity that had come her way.

  Somehow she had won the bid for a plantation on ten acres. She looked carefully over the closing papers. She was sure there was some sort of catch, but, the only thing that raised concern was a historical deed restriction clause, half of which she couldn't read because of the font size. As far as she was concerned, anything under a six-point should be declared illegal for a binding contract. Everything else looked fine.

  So far the plantation was being bought sight unseen. She had viewed the photos on-line. The place was dilapidated, but according to the ad, it 'had good bones and was setting on a solid foundation.' From what she could tell, it was enormous, and dilapidated or not, it was still beautiful. She couldn't wait to go see it up close. In its heyday the entirety of the property had been over 700 acres. The primary crop had been sugar cane, but they had also grown a fair amount of cotton, and of course, crops to eat.

  She was in no way any sort of real estate guru. She had found out about this property nearly two months ago on EBay by chance. She had seen the poor state of the residence in the photos, but flippantly put in a bid for twenty-five dollars, figuring there would be a minimum bid cut-off. Or, at the least be easily out bid, but that hadn't happened. She was still stunned at the thought of having won the bid for a mere twenty-five bucks.

  She wondered who accidentally buys a house, and in another state, so far from home. This was crazier than crazy. She had never even visited the South before, and here she was, showing up as a homeowner...so to speak.

  Lauren Grayson, of the local historical society, sat across from her. Kathy thought she was a skinny, extraordinarily ordinary looking woman, complete with the traditional stringy, flat, brown hair. She was the one handling the transaction for the Bank and the Town. Apparently, the town wasn't big enough to employ a proper city attorney. It wasn't as if Lauren was not legally an attorney, but she did not care to practice, unless it suited her. She preferred to concentrate on something that really mattered to her, her cause to preserve the history of the Old South.

  Kathy was glad when she finally shut up. It was very distracting to try to read over the paperwork with Lauren yammering on. It was almost like Lauren didn’t want her to read the papers. She seemed offended that she had wanted to read them instead of blindly signing them. She continued to read over the papers, wondering if perhaps a pair of reading glasses should be next on her list of scary impulsive purchases.

  After a few minutes Kathy set the paperwork down. "Well, it all looks too good to be true. That is the part that scares me." She managed a genuine smile.

  "Don't worry about any surprise charges, it's all legit. Here is the total bill, including closing costs and transfer fees." Ms. Grayson laid a bill for $48.13 on the table in front of Kathy. "The property taxes have been paid for the year. We, at the local Historical Society opted to have their property tax refund placed back onto the property. Normally the taxes are about $1500 a year, which of course will go up once improvements are done. The tax assessor estimates they will be about $5400 a year when it's all said and done. We really are more interested in preserving the history of the place, and we hoped to inspire the new owner, you, to preserve it."

  Lauren seemed timid in stating the tax information, but Kathy didn't bat an eye at it. Her co-op fee was three times that on her little apartment in Manhattan, so even when the taxes did reset, it would still be a fifty percent savings compared to what she was used to.

  Although her first impression of Ms. Grayson seemed nice, Kathy immediately didn't like her, something about her seemed fake and disingenuous. Additionally, the ad on EBay had said nothing about any sort of oppressive historical restoration restrictions. However, she was not surprised to have found them in the city records. She had supposed the house would have them, since the ad had included that the house had been built in 1810. It was a lucky assumption for her, but a suspicious omission that gave her reason for immediate distrust.

  "May I have a copy of the historical restoration restrictions?" Kathy asked, smiling. She could play the fake pleasantry game too. She had deliberately left off the fact that she already had the plantation's history, and was well aware of its historical restrictions, including its haunted past. She knew if she could restore the house, and get it on the National Historical Registry...She stopped herself. No, Kathy, just flip the property, and go home! She scolded. To her, this house had one purpose only, and it wasn't for this to become a new place to call home.

  "Of course, I'll get them now." Lauren got up and walked over to a file cabinet. The drawer creaked loudly as she pulled hard to open it. "Sorry, it needs replacing."

  Kathy nodded, and turned her gaze toward the window that opened to a picture perfect small town square. The main reason she had been hoping to fix-and-flip the plantation was to use the experience to begin repairing her relationship with her parents. Once she had the main repairs underway, she was looking forward to having her mother come down and help with the decorating. It was her hope that this would create an open dialog with her mother, which would in turn lead to one with her father. They had strongly disapproved of her career choice. The tension was so thick regarding it, that they had skipped getting together for the last few Christmases to avoid arguing over it. Hopefully, this experience would open old doors that had been slammed shut in anger.

  The house's haunted past didn't scare her, for that matter neither did dead bodies. She was a retired homicide detective from the New York City Police Department. She had retired about six months ago, which was four years earlier than planned. She had grown too weary to hold out, drained to the core with the politics that surrounded her job. To make matters worse, there had been a scandal with her partner, Randy. She had been drawn into the drama of it as a witness. She was tired of fighting the so-called good fight. It was someone else's turn. When the city had offered a buy-out to anyone with more than fifteen years, she had jumped on the chance to escape. It ended up working out very well for her, financially speaking, but emotionally she was still reeling from what had happened with Randy.

  The only problem now was that she was fully retired at the age of thirty-seven. She was no spring chicken, but she was nowhere near old enough to retire for real. Even after this short time, boredom had already begun to set in. That would explain why she had been surfing EBay for ridiculous out of state deals on mansions. She could have refused to come, forcing them to re-list the house, but Kathy liked several things about the idea of going ahead with the deal. Both the price and history were phenomenal. And the best part was that it was away from Manhattan. As a bonus she was looking forward to staying here for a bit, she had never visited such a small town. In fact, Hoboken, New Jersey was the smallest place she had been to, and Hoboken was a city onto itself; there was nothing small about it at all.

  She had flown into New Orleans, and then drove nearly two hours to the middle of nowhere, to check out the ridiculously low cost of living compared to home. The pleasant weather here, versus the cold winter temperatures at home made the decision to come and check it out an easy one. If nothing else, she could warm up in the nearly 70 degrees, and forget the snowy 30 degrees at home.

  So far, this place reminded her of photos and movies she had seen about typical rural small towns. Everything was still 'mom-and-pop' here. The 'Big Box' stores had not yet intruded, although there was a shopping center about twenty-five minutes outside of town near the interstate.

  If she decided to sell her apartment, and move here, she knew she would still be ahead financially. Even with the high cost of historical renovations the annual savings to her budget would be worth it in the long run. Howeve
r, could she live someplace so small? She was a city-girl, raised by city parents, who were also raised by city people. Not only that, it was so far away from those who she was trying desperately to mend fences with. There was no way she could even think about living in this beautiful perfect place.

  She scolded herself again, 'Why not! What could be wrong with just moving away and working a bit harder to forget Randy. Mom will come and visit here, probably more often than she had when she lived only ten blocks away from me.' She smiled at her internal waffling, and gave herself permission to put off making anymore rash decisions this week.

  Lauren returned with the papers, "Here we go." She laid them on the table in front of Kathy.

  She smiled, staring at the size two font on the contract. For the first time in a long time, she felt like everything was going to finally heal in her life; her parents' relationship, her job, her nightmares, and her future. She couldn't wait to discover what it was like to be normal. Moreover, she couldn't wait to use her house template app for her tablet, to sketch and create new home design ideas, verses gut-wrenching crime scenes. She smiled, it would be the first time she used it for a diagram that did not feature a body as the focal point of the room.

  Ms. Grayson sifted through another folder and pulled out another document. She laid it next to the copy of the historical restrictions. "This is an addendum releasing some of the restrictions, but not all. We recognize that some things may not be able to be restored completely. You'll find all the appropriate signatures on the last page. Although we hope that you would consider working to put it on the National Historical Register, by fully restoring it. If you have a mind for it, it would make an excellent Bed and Breakfast. There is a significant history there, and people would like to visit. The original stables are still there, but they would need some restoration as well. People would love to board their horses there, and then ride them on the property."

  "Historical restrictions released? Really," she asked, ignoring all the business plans Lauren just suggested, but was pleasantly surprised by the release. That would indeed make it easier to restore and flip the property. And that must be what that size two font paragraph was about.

  Kathy had been in city government for a long time. Releasing such restrictions would have been almost an act of congress where she was from; if it could even be done. She had seen the city, and the people who live there, spend outrageous amounts of money trying to save a ratty old place. It would have been cheaper to demolish it, and then build two exact replicas, using the original plans and building techniques, while paying extra to find and employ descendants of the original builders. It was one thing to preserve history, but it was another thing to be hysterical about it. The good thing about the standard restrictions on historical home was that the interior was normally excluded.

  One thing was for sure, the kitchen would have to be modern. She would not have anything to do with restoring it to 1810 standards. She loved to cook, so an ultra-modern, gourmet kitchen was high on the priority list. And the best part was that the purchase price was more than good enough to do a complete historical restoration on the exterior without breaking her financial will to live. She was sure Ms. Grayson could be talked into reinstating the old historical restrictions very easily, if necessary.

  "Yes, Kathy, we were more concerned that the house wasn't left to rot into the ground." She noticed that Ms. Grayson's pleasant tone of voice did not match her tight-fake smile.

  It was all she could do to not return the fake smile shown her. Lauren was definitely hiding something! After years and years of dealing with lying murderers, Kathy knew a liar when she saw one. But, she was also accustomed to reviewing the evidence, and so far, everything Lauren had told her checked out. This meant that if she was lying, then her lies were lies of omission. Kathy supposed she would figure it out sooner or later. Hopefully, whatever it was wouldn't be too terrible to deal with.

  "I know you don't normally take cash, but I am hoping you can make an exception in this case", Kathy said, handing over a fifty dollar bill. She flipped the pages to the signature page, and then signed them.

  Lauren smiled, "I think in this case a check would only increase the cost." She gave Kathy a receipt, copies of all the closing papers, the keys and alarm codes, and then displayed the unmistakable body language of someone who had just been cleared of a crime, they actually committed.

  Kathy wondered what it could be that had everyone on edge with the house. This morning, the man at the hardware store had told her how sorry he was for her for 'getting stuck' with 'that' house.

  Kathy said good-bye, and Lauren thanked her for buying the house in what seemed to be the only genuine sounding statement she had said to Kathy since she got the first phone call from her reminding her of the bid. Knowing that the bid was ridiculously low, she had forgotten all about it shortly after making it.

  After she left she stopped at a diner for lunch, since she couldn't find a Starbucks. To her, that fact alone was reason enough to not live here on a permanent basis. She ate, and reviewed the local newspaper. It looked as if nothing went on here, but that wasn't a bad thing. After sixteen years in police work, she was ready for some boredom. It was nice to be in a place where the front page news was the winning pie recipe at the town's winter festival, and not some hideous crime spree, awful wreck on the highway, or the robbery and shooting of an innocent victim.

  She pulled out her new GPS, typed in the address, and then followed it to her new house.

  About fifteen minutes later, she arrived to find a rusty iron gate and matching fence that ran the entire length of the front of the property. Across the street was the beginning edge of a wooded area. The map showed the woods to be the leading edge of a large bayou. The Spanish moss hung low in the trees, and a bird sang a lazy tune on a nearby limb.

  She looked back and took a hard long look at her new purchase. The fence was thick with over grown weeds, vines, and trees. It was obvious that the property hadn't been trimmed in probably twenty years. She took out her phone and snapped several pictures, uploading to her Facebook page. Overgrown or not, this seemed like a peaceful place upon her first glance. She was pleased at the prospect of giving things a fresh start.

  She got out of the car, and unlocked the gate. The driveway alone was impressive. It was lined with the enormous, Spanish Moss covered, Magnolia trees. Even in its rundown condition, the plantation was an impressive and beautiful place. It spoke of its once great splendor. Kathy immediately loved the house, and now understood Lauren's actions to try to save it. She hopped back in the car, and drove slowly toward her reward.

  She smiled, "You'll be the perfect distraction," she told the house.

  The roof of the stable, located behind the house, was visible from the street. At first thought she wondered if it would make a great garage. There would be plenty of time to reflect on the best use of the space later, since there were more important matters to consider.

  The main house had two stories, with high dormer windows along the roof line. Dual upper and lower wraparound porches hugged the house like a warm blanket. The once welcoming yellow paint was now faded and mostly peeled away. All of the windows on the main floor were actually doorways that opened out onto the porches. As she looked around she realized that there were no proper windows, as one would think of them, except in the upper attic dormers. Essentially the house had twenty doors to the outside, at least.

  She parked by the front steps, and gingerly stepped around the holes that had rotted through the front porch. Like a child, she plastered her face against the old windows to capture a first view of the prize inside. She was disappointed though, she couldn't see much. The windows were extremely old, and dirty. She was impressed to see the condition they were in, she couldn't believe they were still intact.

  Back home the windows were the first things to be broken in an abandoned house, followed quickly by the cooper pipes being ripped out. She wondered if she could replace them with stained
glass, and still be within the historical limitations. She wasn't at all comfortable with the prospect of all this clear glass on a home. If the windows were clean, someone could see directly into the house. Long isolated driveway or not, she didn't like the idea of people being able to look in.

  She took out the lone skeleton key that, according to Lauren fit every door in the house. The stable had a modern key. The previous owners had found it necessary to secure it better, in order to keep wandering ghost hunting trespassers out. As she entered through the grand double front door, she was quick to notice that the foyer alone was bigger than her entire apartment. In fact, her whole home could fit right inside this room.

  The room itself was in need of some serious help. The wallpaper that had been applied by some former owner was lying in heaps on the floor. Apparently it had peeled off in some bygone day, exposing the original teal peacock wall paper underneath. It was incredible; there must have been at least four or five layers of it lying around the room. It was almost like the house was rejecting the modern wallpaper, in favor of the old stuff. She ran her hand over the wall, and was surprised that it felt slightly metallic. The most surprising thing was that, overall, it seemed to be in good shape for being two hundred years old.

  "Can you be saved?" she said, out loud to no one in particular, having no idea that single question would set her on the mystery of a life time as the challenge to be saved was accepted.

  She turned to look at the staircase, and frowned. She had hoped for a grand staircase, something along the lines of the one in Gone with the Wind, but this one reminded her of the one in her grandmother's old house. It was disappointingly normal, especially given the grandeur of the house.

  To her left was a grand dining room, and adjoining ballroom. The tattered furniture of the former owner was still in the dining room. An ornate built-in china cabinet, in dire need of refurbishing stretched the entire length of the back wall. The dining room table stretched from end to end, and would serve twelve easily. It was also in dire need of refinishing, but like the house, it was solid, and would one day be a beautiful piece of furniture again. On the other hand, she wasn't so sure about the chairs. It appeared to her untrained eye that they might be done for. The dining set was the only furniture in the house.