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“Well, then,” I said. “Let’s go take a look.”
2
A-Haunting We Will Go
The Bigelow mansion stood on its own hill on the eastern edge of town, with spectacular mountain views on all sides. On the drive over — because Josie had insisted on bringing me in her Cadillac — she’d told me that the house had been built by the man who first found silver in these hills. His new wealth brought him a socialite wife from the East Coast, and she was the one who assisted in the design and decorating of their new home.
“It really is quite spectacular,” Josie said as she pulled into the long gravel driveway. The garage was detached from the house, and probably had been built many years after the original construction. Even so, I could tell the architect had taken care to make sure it harmonized with the main structure, and the mansion’s four-color paint scheme — dark brick red, forest and sage green, and pale gold — had been carried over there as well.
The mansion itself stood three stories tall and had a slate roof with a copper weathervane at its highest peak, along with a tower at the front and an expansive porch. No expense had been spared with the landscaping, either, as a broad green lawn with a flagstone path bordered in rosebushes swept you up to the front door, while the surrounding gardens were filled with flowers in full bloom as well as carefully groomed trees — willows and maples and sycamores. Off toward the rear of the property, I spied what I guessed was the apple orchard, its leaves glossy green in the August sun.
Even though I’d been expecting something impressive, I honestly hadn’t thought the Bigelow homestead would be quite such an oasis in Globe’s high desert. No wonder my mother had wanted the place — the gardens here would keep her busy for days.
“Definitely spectacular,” I agreed.
Josie put her Cadillac in park, and we both got out and headed up the front walk. The air itself felt lusher here than it did down in town, filled with the scent of roses and fresh grass. From one of the trees in the backyard came the distinctive trill of a cardinal.
Josie wore a faint smile on her pink-lipsticked mouth, as if she could tell I was beginning to fall under the spell of the place as well. We climbed the steps to the front porch, and she fished a key with a plastic fob from out of her oversized purse.
“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, although she didn’t hesitate as she placed the key in the lock and turned it. “But since you’re family, I suppose I’ll let you and your mother work that out.”
“I really don’t think she’ll mind,” I replied, even as I mentally added, Much. “It makes sense to have someone check on the house before she gets here, after all.”
This self-serving argument didn’t appear to win me any points, since Josie only lifted an eyebrow. However, she went ahead and opened the door, and I stepped into the foyer.
Wow. The entry stood two stories high, and an enormous Tiffany-style chandelier hung from the coffered ceiling twenty feet above. Directly ahead was a huge sweeping staircase, while off to either side were what appeared to be parlors, both with oversized marble fireplaces and an impressive array of antiques of the same vintage of the house. All the original mahogany woodwork seemed to be intact, and the dark wood floor beneath my feet gleamed with the sort of gloss that could only be achieved with a whole lot of beeswax polish and elbow grease.
It all looked like something out of a movie. As impressive as the house was, though, I couldn’t help contrasting it with the airy, Spanish-style home my mother shared with Tom back in Southern California. This place felt heavy and dark, very unlike my bright and cheery mom.
But maybe she planned to spend a lot of time outside while she was here, or possibly she just wanted her vacation home to be a complete change of pace. And I had to admit that this place would make a spectacular Airbnb — I could see people coming to Globe just so they could stay in a real honest-to-goodness Victorian mansion.
And that wasn’t even including the ghosts.
Speaking of which….
I turned to Josie, who was standing a few paces away and watching me, clearly eager to see my reaction to the house. Since my mouth had dropped open a bit as we entered, I figured she already knew I was impressed by the place.
“Did you ever experience anything out of the ordinary while you were here?” I inquired.
She shook her head, looking almost regretful. “Not a thing. Hank and Nora — the previous owners — said it was probably because the ghosts were shy and didn’t like to do much of anything around people they considered strangers, but I was still hoping I might see or feel something. But I didn’t.” A pause, and she slanted a curious glance up at me. “You don’t feel anything, either?”
I hadn’t yet, but that could have been because I wasn’t actually trying. Since I wasn’t a true medium, communing with the dead wasn’t really my specialty. However, that didn’t mean I couldn’t give it the old college try.
“Let’s find out,” I said.
At random, I chose the parlor to the right and walked in that direction, making myself breathe quietly and rhythmically as I attempted to take in something of the mansion’s energies. I thought that staying in the foyer probably wasn’t a good idea, since most of the day-to-day activities in the house would have taken place somewhere other than the entry.
The walls here were papered with a pretty botanical print in muted shades of slate gray and burgundy. Normally, I wasn’t a fan of wallpaper, but it suited the house and the furniture.
“All the furnishings conveyed with the house,” Josie told me, maybe because she thought that information might help me with my ghost-hunting quest. “The previous owners wanted to make sure it would stay as it was while they lived here.”
That was probably a good thing. After all, the place would lose a lot of its charm if someone tried to put modern furnishings in here. Also, if the mansion truly was inhabited by a couple of ghosts, the less disruption, the better. Some of the more spectacular hauntings I’d read about had been instigated by remodeling projects, or even simply redecorating a room or two.
And while I guessed it must have cost Tom and my mother a decent chunk to purchase all these antiques as well, doing so would save them the trouble of having a bunch of brand-new furniture shipped to Arizona.
“I’m going to try to sense if anyone else is here,” I said. “I need to be quiet and focus.”
What I really needed was for Josie to hold her tongue so I could concentrate, but I figured framing the situation this way was much more polite…not to mention having a better chance of success.
