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The Mystery of the Real Live Dead Person
12c. Another Maze Of Twisty Passages

12c. Another Maze Of Twisty Passages

“Your garden is beautiful, Kelly,” Richard proclaimed as he approached her.

She turned around to look at him. “Thanks! My step-mom dictates most of it, but they give me this corner.”

Richard took in the view. “Your corner is definitely more colorful.”

“You bet!” she trilled. “I’ve got several different fruit-bearing plants here; my windowsill has the more delicate herbs. Many of them have medicinal properties, but some I just like to eat.”

Richard perused a series of oblong crimson fruits with thick, wavy hairs protruding from them; the nearby tag proclaimed it to be a rambutan plant. “You certainly take holistic medicine seriously.”

“How can I not?” she asked. “It’s cheaper, just as effective, and a lot less dangerous! So what if plants don’t come in exact-sized doses, or don’t contain only a single extracted ingredient? Quite often, the full bouquet of phytochemicals is necessary to avoid side effects! The real problem is that Big Pharma can’t patent any of it, so they do everything in their power to slander it.”

“On the other hand,” Richard countered, sweeping his hand over the estate, “traditional medicine isn’t this lucrative.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You’re making my point for me. Health care shouldn’t be expensive enough to allow this sort of wealth.”

Richard shrugged. “You got me there. I can only afford a catastrophic health care plan, in case I get shot, or run over, or something.”

“And that’s just wrong!” she declared. “You deserve better. We all deserve better. That’s why I devote my time to fighting for causes I believe in.” She let out a heavy sigh. “My dad just wants me to be a good little girl and color inside the lines. But I just don’t have it in me.”

She had a good point. He would have to work harder if he hoped to steer her onto a different path. Perhaps it was time to pull some heartstrings.

“From talking to him,” Richard offered, “I think he’s mostly concerned for your safety.”

She let out a frustrated groan. “There’s the s-word again. Safety. My dad doesn’t care what happens to anyone else, as long as he’s doing OK. I can’t willfully blind myself like that. He’s cut himself off from the outside world, and taken me with him.”

Richard wasn’t sure what to say. “I’ve only been here a little while, but I can see its advantages,” he proffered weakly. “It’s peaceful out here, and awfully pretty.”

“Seriously?” She spread her arms wide. “We’re in the middle of nowhere! We’ve got a fortified wall inside a fortified fence! This place might be named ‘Bettencourt Manor’, and the help might call it ‘Dreamland’, but to me, it’s Supermax, and I’m the prisoner.”

Now he was completely out of ideas. Nothing left to do but gaze at her sadly. Her eyes met his, and she hung her head with a defeated sigh. “I’m out of here as soon as I can afford it. Holistic medicine is my best bet; I’m really good at it.” She looked up, her expression morose. “I’ll really miss my garden, but otherwise, I hope I never see this place again.”

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“How long have you lived here?” he asked.

“Ever since the divorce. My dad bought this soon afterwards. He said he was afraid my mom would come back. But I think his new wife just wanted to spend a lot of his money.”

“Your dad might have a point, though. Your mom sounds like a scary character.”

She snorted angrily. “You’ve only heard his side of the story. There’s a lot more.” She looked around uneasily. “We should probably move this conversation to my room. The plants have ears.”

Richard looked around; he spotted a shape on the other side of a thick patch of greenery, moving away. “Seems like a fair concern.”

She pointed to the cooler. “What’s in there? Did you bring me a present?”

“Something like that,” he explained as he opened the lid. “I wanted to know more about this stuff. I thought it’d be up your alley.”

Her eyes grew wide as she peered at it. Quickly snatching a bottle, she took it over to a darker area of the garden, where the glow was much more noticeable. “Yeah, I know all about it!” She put the bottle back into the cooler and closed the lid. “Let’s get going.”

They left the garden, leaving behind the grand curved windows of the ballroom. Around the corner, they encountered another smaller set of curved windows; inside were several rows of pew-like benches, and a curtain near the far wall. “The private theater,” she explained. “Not even a movie theater…like the type for staging plays, or concerts. It’s never been used.” She chuckles. “You see? We don’t need this much house. It’s total overkill.”

They reached the back door; Richard moved toward it. “No,” Kelly called out. “The stairway.” He followed her up the stairs and through a simple door, to a more tightly-packed area. “The servant’s quarters,” she explained. “They’re not here at this time of day.” They walked down a hallway, past a dining room with its own kitchen, another hallway with several sets of doors, and a shared living room.

She reached the end of the short hall, where a grandfather clock stood against the wall. She turned to him and smiled. “And now, the oldest trick in the book.” She opened the glass door to the pendulum, then reached upward, into the two corners, and made a furtive movement. With a smirk, she withdrew her hands, closed the glass door, and pulled gently on the right side of the clock. It swung away from the wall, revealing a dimly-lit passage. His eyes grew wide as she beckoned him inside; he followed. Grasping a metallic handle, she gently closed the door; it fell into place with a light snap, and the darkness swallowed them. A light suddenly blazed bright; the flashlight in Kelly’s phone shone down a long hallway. “This is pretty much the only thing I like about this house,” she shared. Richard had to agree; the chance of odd finds like this was one of the reasons he became a detective.

He followed her down the passage, which turned left at the end. She found another metallic handle on the wall and turned it gently. A door popped open, leading into a closet. Once they were both inside, she turned around, twisted a coat hook, pushed the door closed, then twisted the coat hook back to its original position.

“Does your dad even know this is here?” Richard asked.

“I don’t think so,” she cheered. “He’s never mentioned it.”

She peeked out the closet door, then beckoned Richard. “All clear.” Richard found himself in Allen’s opulent bedroom. They passed a larger-than-king-size poster bed and reached an open area. To the right was a simple chair and dresser; ahead of them was a round table and set of chairs in front of a stonework fireplace, most of it quartz or obsidian. But Richard’s attention was drawn to the unsettling decorations along the walls, surrounding what appeared to be a throne. Kelly saw the look on his face and winced.

“Yeah. He’s a big game hunter. Whole other story.”

She reached the bedroom door, cracked it open, and peered outside. After a moment, she walked through it and motioned Richard to follow her, closing it behind them. Quickly, she ducked down the hallway, turning left just past a grand staircase, ending in a den with a view of the front gate and the driveway. She opened a door on the right leading to her room, and they entered, the door shutting behind them.

“Why did we take that route?” he had to ask.

“Less chance of encountering the help,” she explained. “I’m tired of their prying eyes.”

She smiled as she beheld her room. “Well? What do you think?”