The third instalment.

Edited: August 27th 2017

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Arriving at the Estate

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If there is will, there is way. And if there is a Will, then…

"Hey, stop giving me that look. I'm giving you a free ride here."

Allen could have argued that he could have taken the train or for that matter the bus. He merely averted his eyes however, and directed his gaze towards the scenery passing by.

They had left the highway just a short while ago, turning into a side road and then into some fairly narrow town road. At this point, they might have been driving for an hour, or possibly three; Allen had probably zoned out somewhere in the middle of it, staring down at the paper in his hand. There were also the stack of papers attached to the clipboard on his lap, but he had only really skimmed through them before going back to the first paper, trying to make sense of it.

"How much am I worth?" Such had been Allen's question.

Bookman had spoken about the assets Allen stood to inherit, and invited him to go see them for himself. Of course, when Allen had accepted, he hadn't exactly been expecting this.

"Look, I think we got off to a rough start. I'm Lavi, otherwise known as Bookman Junior. I'm nineteen, single and I'm sorry about the whole drugging and kidnapping thing, but in my defence, you were armed."

Allen seriously wondered why the age or the relationship status was even relevant. Still‒ "Maybe you'd have more luck in relationships if you didn't go around kidnapping people."

The redhead gave a slight snort at that. "I guess I walked right into that one huh? But, for the record‒" He switched gears. "‒You're my first. Consider it an honour."

An honour? Hah! "This better be worth it."

"I honestly couldn't agree with you more."

Allen shot him a look and then stared out the window. Grass, some bushes, some woods, a few hills, a lake, a bunch of fields, and then, a small town. Cobblestones, cobblestones, cobblestones. A church, quaint little streets, empty at this time of the day, save for the retirees and some person of a younger variety, bicycling or walking briskly on their way to some unknown location. They drove past them all though, passing through the town and continuing for a brief while before turning onto an even smaller road‒No, from what Allen could see, it was more of a driveway.

At the entrance, there were two large stone pillars, one on each side of the road. There was no gate however, at least not now, and whatever lay ahead was still obscured by the surrounding greenery.

However, it was not long before they were once again out of the woods, the road now surrounded by a sea of yellow wheat swaying gently in the wind.

Looking at them, Allen experienced a strange kind of nostalgia, and he kept looking back, even once they had made it to their destination.

Lavi had barely even parked the car before Allen slipped out, walking back towards the nearest field. Or, more specifically, towards a small hill just to the side of it.

Once there, Allen crouched down, picking up a charred fragment from the ground. He must have sat there studying it for a while, because suddenly Lavi was there, asking what was the matter, and was that a damned good question or what, because‒ "The tree's gone."

The redhead regarded him with an expression that was about one third confused, one third concerned and one third intrigued. "There was a lightning strike, just last year," Bookman Junior finally volunteered, looking on as Allen straightened back up. "The tree itself had been dead for a while though."

Yeah, Allen knew that. But why? How?

He turned, averting his eyes from the fields towards the manor. A powerful gust of wind blew past. The wheat behind them bent down and then began to dance, and Allen got hit by a barrage of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was the feeling of nostalgia, of home. On the other however‒

There was something there, an underlying current of something that made Allen's skin crawl.

Actually, now that Allen got a really good look at the place, this somewhat rundown manor looked an awful lot like something out of a murder mystery novel. Or something. It looked haunted, and Allen didn't even believe in ghosts.

In hindsight, he should probably have told them to just go ahead and sell the place. He really should have, without ever setting foot in it. But‒ "How long has it stood empty?"

The redhead pulled out a key ring with an absolutely ridiculous number of keys and started sorting through them one by one as they made their way towards the back of the manor, because apparently, they couldn't enter from the front. "Well, no one's really lived in it for a while as far as I know, not permanently at any rate. But there is this caretaker who comes by to tend to the grounds, for the most part."

"Caretaker?"

There was a slight pause. "He lives just outside of the town," Lavi finally volunteered, if a bit reluctantly. "He's a bit… special, I guess? But he's been at it for at least twenty years, so…"

Special? "Are we talking the harmless kind of special or the might-drug-and-abduct-me kind of special?"

Allen got a decidedly exasperated look for that, even though the question was perfectly justified. "You really know how to nurse a grudge, don't you?"

Really. "It was literally yesterday!"

"Yeah, but for the record," Bookman Junior went on, shoving the correct key into the keyhole. "He might not be the smartest, but he's one of the kindest people I know. He takes in injured wildlife and nurses them back to health. The deer in this area are crazy about him, I swear. They sometimes show up just to lick him."

Sometimes? "And how often have you been here?"

Lavi twisted the key in the lock and pulled the door open; it creaked, and quite loudly and ominously at that. "A couple of times," he responded and held the door open for him. "You first."

Some part of Allen would rather just have turned and left right then and there, but‒ "Fine."

-.-.-.-

Gloomy. That was Allen's first impression of the place. His second was dusty, because it sure as Hell was. There were large cobwebs as well, and they were all the more apparent once Lavi turned the lights on, revealing the outline of furniture draped in greyish white, dust-covered sheets like some sort of ghostly spectres. "Well," Allen said after having spent about a minute just looking around. "This place is a dump."

"Hah, you should've seen it the first time," Lavi responded, pulling out his cell phone to check the time before pocketing it again. "Now it's just dusty. I would have asked the guy if he could at least come and vacuum for a bit, but… I'd rather not."

Rather not? "And why is that?"

The redhead went really quiet at that. "His… foster mother, I guess. She died, just a couple of days ago."

Allen honestly wasn't sure how to react to that. Still− "Yeah, that would've been pretty bad. Like, 'look, I know you're grieving and all, but I really need you to clean this place up. I've just drugged and kidnapped someone and I need to show them the house tomorrow'."

"Honestly. You've made your point. Kidnapping is bad. I shall refrain from it in the future."

"And drugging people?"

"‒is obviously bad, but at this point, I'm considering knocking myself out. Feel free to have a look around though. The house's practically yours after all."

Hoh. "Where are you going?"

"Outside. I need to make a call and the reception's better outside. But don't worry." Lavi held his hands up, his smile apologetic if a bit strained. "I promise I won't be negotiating organs prices with my contacts on the black market."

The sarcasm was evident. Still‒ "Then what?"

Lavi gave a somewhat dismissive wave at that. "I'm calling to make an appointment with my dentist. I think you knocked one of my teeth loose yesterday."

Well… it wasn't impossible, per se, because Allen knew himself quite capable of delivering a mean punch. "Be glad it wasn't your nose."

Or another, far more sensitive part of his anatomy…

Lavi just waved him off though, walking briskly in the direction from which they had come, which, naturally, left Allen standing there alone in some sort of sitting room. There was a sofa in there, covered by a white sheet like so many other things. Allen briefly considered removing it and taking a seat, but ultimately opted against it. Instead, he moved on to the next room, which curiously enough featured a large round table surrounded by chairs. Absentmindedly, Allen counted them. There were fourteen, although six of them seemed to be in a pretty bad shape. Still, a fairly odd number.

Allen did not stay long however, stepping past them and through the next room. Soon, he found himself standing in front of a large staircase. It was fairly dark however, and with no obvious light switch in sight, Allen used the flashlight on his cell phone. It only provided so much light, but Allen could still tell that he had incidentally found his way into the antechamber. He directed the flashlight towards the large oak double doors. Now he could clearly see that they had been bolted shut, which explained why it had not been possible to enter from the front. Still‒ "Needlessly big."

Manors such as this one cost a lot of money to maintain. Given that this one had apparently stood largely empty for at least ten to twenty years, Allen could only imagine how much money had already been poured into it. This in turn made him wonder just how much was actually left of the sum he was supposed to inherit, and how large it had been from the start. However, more than that, he wondered about the who and the why and the how of this whole situation.

Then again, he already knew who, technically speaking; the letter had been signed after all. So, that left the why, as in why would these people leave him anything, and the how, as in how could they possibly have known about him, given that the letter had allegedly been written and filed many years before he was even born. Then again‒

He startled violently as a large clock somewhere began chiming. Dong. Dong. Dong.

For a few moments, he simply stood there, frozen. Only his eyes moved, scanning his surroundings as though the source of the sound would suddenly appear out of nowhere, which was pretty stupid, because clocks did not move. Besides, the sound did not come from below. It came from above.

Dong.

There. At the top of the staircase. A tall shape covered in a white sheet. Well, greyish.

Dong.

There was something off with the sound though. Maybe it was broken or something?

Dong. Allen looked back towards the door from which he had entered; Bookman Junior was nowhere in sight. Dong. That phone call of his was taking an awful lot of time. Dong. He had probably lied about the dentist appointment. Dong. He had definitely lied about the dentist appointment. It hardly mattered though, not much at any rate.

By the time that the clock had stopped chiming, Allen was already at the top of the staircase, mere steps away from it. Up close, it looked fairly imposing; the outline at least. But Allen did not hesitate. Instead, he extended his hand, grabbing hold of the dusty fabric and gave it a sharp tug.

Dust whirled around him, visible in the light from his phone. He had forgotten to charge it, so the batteries were running low. Thus, it was only a question of time before it would start complaining. But, the clock.

Allen supposed this had to be what people called a grandfather clock; this was probably his first time seeing one. Probably. It looked fairly old. Allen might have found its appearance on the gaudy side, but if it had actually ran on the same batteries and had been running on those same batteries for the last couple of years, then‒ did grandfather clocks even run on batteries? Or were they wound up? If it was the latter, then‒

Allen tried to open it up, but it was locked. Why anyone would find it necessary to lock a clock was honestly beyond him, but if he was still interested in finding out once he headed back, then Allen figured he could just try and break it open or something. Or try his luck with lock picking, should he find anything to fashion into a decent lock pick.

For now though, he just moved on, intent upon exploring what he could before Junior returned.

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