A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Sorry it took me so long to update. Here's Chapter Four.
The Murderer of Stevenson House
"What do you think you're doing?" Came Miss Pateer's voice.
"Oh," Twitty sighed of relief. "It's you."
"Uh, sorry, Miss uh, Pateer," Louis said as innocently as possible. "Well, you see, me and my friend here, we, well, got lost and we fell back into this here hole." He stared over his shoulder. "We're sorry."
"Hmph," Miss Pateer let out, in a rather deeper voice than usual. "Well, who are you again?"
"I'm Louis and this is—"
"No, I mean what are your character's names?" Miss Pateer's voice was stern.
"Oh, well, I'm uh, Darnell Finster," Twitty remembered.
"And I'm Clarence McDorman," Louis added plainly.
"Ah, well, Darnell and Clarence," Miss Pateer smiled slyly, "we've got the perfect room for you."
>>>>
"Uh, where are the other guys?" Louis asked as Miss Pateer led them out of the hallway they'd been in. He looked behind him once again, so fast though, that he could have sworn the hole had just sealed itself.
There was no time to confirm it though. Miss Pateer, who had been accompanied by the strange butler, was briskly hustling them down a different hallway, and stopped at a door. She opened it, and stared inside, smiling.
She opened it wider, revealing a dark, musty looking staircase, which looked so narrow, that barely two people could stand side by side, or even one for the matter.
"Uh, what exactly are we supposed to do?" Louis asked.
Miss Pateer nodded her head. "Go on up."
"Up there?" Louis asked, glancing up the dark stairwell. "Well, you know what? I think I liked the other rooms better, so why don't we just get out of your way, and—"
The butler let out a soft, but solid grunt as Louis tried to slip past him. He grabbed his shoulder.
"Or, maybe not," Louis finished.
He glanced once again up the stairwell.
Twitty gulped rather loudly.
Soon, they found themselves on the stairs, going up, and up. It never seemed to end, and it was pitched black, but the two boys could hear Miss Pateer's soft breathing as she supervised them like a hawk.
Finally, they came to another door, and Miss Pateer opened it. Suddenly, her smile reappeared.
"Welcome to your new home," she said, cheerfully opening the door.
Inside was something Louis and Twitty would have never expected.
"Mother of pearl." Louis' breath was taken away by what he saw before him.
It must have been a dream. The room reminded Louis of "The Little Princess," where the man turned the little girl's room into a beautiful, fantastic bedroom, with all the food and comfort she'd need.
"On second thought," Louis added brightly, "this'll do just fine, thank you."
"Good," Miss Pateer smiled sweetly, and slammed the door behind her.
The second the door was slammed, everything in the room began to change. The color of the walls got darker, and darker. The beds began to look a bit more shabbier, and there was a click heard behind the door.
"That sounds just for scare," Louis laughed. "You know, just to freak us out and make us think she's actually locked us in this place.
Just for reassurance, Twitty scuttled quickly over to the door and pulled the knob over and over again.
"Uh, dude, she locked us in," he said, breathing hard.
>>>>
"Do you guys know where Louis and Twitty went?" Tawny asked, as she looked around the gift shop on the first floor.
"No clue," Tom replied. "I hope they're okay."
"Knowing Alan and Louis. . ." Allison added.
"Yeah," Tawny sniggered, "but I am still a bit worried."
"Hmm." Tom checked out some postcards on the panel that stood awkwardly near the cash register. "I could send Doris one of these."
He held one up that had a picture of a ghoul-looking figure standing strangely tall in front of Stevenson House, and pushed it in Tawny's face.
"Oh, ew!" Tawny shrieked, pushing the postcard away. "Who—what is that?"
"Ah, I'll tell you," Miss Pateer's voice interupted. "Let me tell you the story of Stevenson House."
"You've showed us enough," Allison mumbled under her breath, looking a bit disgusted.
"Oh, no, you have yet to see some, other, some different, things soon enough," Miss Pateer smiled wickedly. "Now, listen closely."
The group gathered into the parlor, where they'd entered the house, and seated themselves on the sofas and armchairs. Some sat on the floor, too eager, because they wanted to hear the story.
Miss Pateer seated herself on the railing of the banister. "This house was built in 1906, when Henry Stevenson moved here from Louisiana. His family was extremely wealthy. He was a merchant, but inherited most of his fortune from his great-grandfather Arnold Stevenson, who was a successful banker. Henry and his wife Clarice used most of the family fortune to settle here in California, and built this outrageously large house. People thought of it as a waste of money, especially one man in particular."
"Who was it?" One of the boys asked.
"Jacob Schemer," Miss Pateer replied dryly. "And his personality fit his name, it sure did."
The room was silent.
"A few months after moving here, Henry and Clarice gave birth to a child, a beautiful little girl named Eleanor. Now Jacob Schemer, who still thought that the family had wasted their money, had been planning a little something to get at them. He wanted their money, as a matter of fact, so he could show them what happens when you show off your money." There was a sense of anger in Miss Pateer's voice. "They had locks on their doors and windows, but little 'ol Jake knew better. He had somehow found this, secret passage."
She stopped in mid sentence, then continued. "And got into Eleanor's bedroom, while she was asleep late at night. He grabbed her, planning to use her kidnapping to make a ransom, but she screamed, very loud surprisingly. I woke her mother Clarice, who was asleep down the hall. Jake grabbed his knife that he always carried around, and tried to run, but Eleanor squirmed so much that he dropped her in his hurry. Such a little baby she was, and couldn't survive the fall. Her bones weren't developed enough. Now Clarice had come in, and seen this. She screamed, and in his sudden surprise of her presence, Jake accidentally flung the knife and—" Miss Pateer stopped there, and wiped a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. "If it really was an accident, I don't know."
She took in a deep breath. "Henry ran into the room, and being the strong man he was, wrestled the knife from Jake and killed him right there. You would consider that defense, maybe, or anger, but no matter what it was, he was sent to jail, and died there, without so much as a trial."
There was silence in the large parlor. Everyone was in shock.