Winter Roses

After weeks of searching across various towns in Washington County, Marla, our real estate agent finally showed us the house of our dreams. It was May and spring was in full bloom.

“I can’t believe this is in our budget! Why didn’t you show this to us when we first started looking? It checks all the boxes,” I said to Marla as we toured the nearly 8,000 square foot home.

“And then some,” my pyromaniac husband added as he investigated one of the three fireplaces the house boasted, this one in the family room.

“It wasn’t in your budget then,” Marla replied. “It’s been on the market over a year now, but they just lowered the asking price.”

“By half a million dollars, I would say,” yelled my husband from the living room. “This fireplace is almost big enough to walk in.”

“You must be kidding me. I can’t believe no one has snatched it up.” The first floor had an open floor plan with the kitchen flowing into an informal eating area flowing into a family room. Floor to ceiling windows covered one wall. Down a step, also on the first floor, were a formal dining room that, on one side, exited into a circular sitting area with picture windows and window seats wrapping around the room; on the other side it exited into a living room with another fireplace and French doors all along the wall, exiting onto a deck overlooking the backyard. On the far side of the living room there was an enclosed porch with more floor to ceiling windows on three sides. The artist in me was in love with the light.

Upstairs, the master bedroom took up half the floor; walls of windows revealed incredible views. A fireplace and a balcony beyond French doors completed the picture. The master bath was something out of House Beautiful, with heated floors, a sunken bath, separate shower and toilet, double sinks as well as a sauna. There were four bedrooms all together. Two shared a bathroom with a rainfall shower. We would turn them into home offices, I thought - we both worked from home. The third had a separate bath, with a large claw-foot tub. It would be the guest room.

Standing on the balcony, my breath was taken away. The house was surrounded by a beautiful, lush lawn with myriad colorful beds of flowers, some in bloom, others promising a delightful summer. Behind the house there was a pond flanked by Adirondack chairs and a fire pit. Beyond the lawn, were 96 acres of forest (according to Marla) with trails and a meandering stream with myriad fruit and other trees filled with birdsong. In the distance, I could see several mountain peaks, some still holding on to winter white.

“Are there bodies in the basement?” I asked.

“What?” Marla whipped her head around, not laughing as I had intended but rather looking a little distressed.

“Joking. I just don’t get why it’s still for sale. Does it flood or have termites or have a faulty well or septic tank?”

“Uh, no. It really is perfect,” she said.

“We’ll take it.”

We placed an offer $100,000 below the asking price. It was accepted within minutes of our submission. According to Marla, the owner had relocated to another state some time ago due to health reasons and, perhaps due to medical bills, was desperate to sell. The house was ours by August. We had settled in by late September when the reds, oranges and yellows of fall provided more evidence that we had found our forever home.

The nearest house was a mile away, the village was five miles down a winding road to the valley. Our first visit to the local farmer's market was an opportunity to meet some of our neighbors.

"So, you moved into the Robinson house, huh? I'm Eloise Lawlor," said the tall woman with long, iron-gray hair and purple-rimmed glasses selling pottery and earrings she'd made herself.

"Yes, yes we did," I replied. "I'm Ally. This is my husband, Alec."

Shaking hands, Eloise continued, "We were surprised it got a buyer so quickly."

"Quickly? Marla said it was on the market for a while. I would have thought it would go in hours not months.”

"Well, yes, but most get a little queasy when they hear that more than a dozen people were murdered there.”

"What?"

"No one told you?"

"Um, no, that wasn't on the information sheet."

"Eloise..." said a balding, heavyset man who’d come and stood beside her.

"Tom..." she said, pursing her lips and crossing her arms.

"Hi, I'm Tom, Eloise's husband," he said, shaking our hands. "Don't pay her any mind. The Robinsons' is a great place and we're happy to welcome you to our town."

"I'm Ally. Thanks."

"I’m Alec. What is Eloise talking about?"

Tom looked at Eloise, rolled his eyes and then smiled at us saying, "I say let the past lie. You really don’t want to taint your feelings for your new home based on events that happened almost two years ago, do you?”

"Does everyone in town know the story?"

"Of course. It's a small town. We almost hit 2000 at the last census,” he responded, a twinkle in his eye.

"So, I guess we should know it, too."

Tom sighed. "If you say so. Go on then, Eloise. I know you're dying to tell them," he said, flopping down into the beach chair behind their display table.

"Well, the Robinsons had owned that property for almost as long as this town has been around. The most recent generation, Edna and Bill, inherited from Bill’s parents back in ’90 or ’91. They knocked down the old house, which I guess needed knocking down, and built the architectural delight that is now your home.

“Anyway, they lived there for 30 years then Edna got sick, and they needed to move to a warmer, drier climate. They’re in Arizona now. Rather than sell, they decided to rent the house via Airbnb. Easy to do around here through the Mad River Valley real estate office which works in conjunction with Mad River Cleaning and the local general store to make things easy for the owner and the renter. If you ever want to look into it…”

“Eloise, they just moved in.”

“They might want to do it in the future.”

“Eloise…”

“Fine. Anyway, two winters ago, we had the worst blizzard on record. The roads were blocked for more than a week. When the cleaning crew went to prepare the house for its next group of skiers, they saw that the previous visitors hadn’t left before the blizzard. Two SUVs, a Corvette, a Porsche and a McClaren were under several feet of snow. No footsteps anywhere.

“They went in. The house was freezing. The heat had been shut off and all the fireplaces were cold. They called out, but no one answered. They checked all the rooms, but the house was empty of people although all their stuff was still in the closets. Most of the common living areas looked unused. In the kitchen, there was a pot of water on the stove filled with rose petals, but there was nothing on the counters or tables; the dishwasher was empty. Figuring they got caught out skiing and hadn’t made it back yet, they sent a note to their boss and got to work.

“As the heat started coming up, the house started to stink. Trying to figure out where the smell was coming from, they realized it was the basement. Having watched too many horror movies, -”

“Or just having good sense,” Tom threw in.

“They called the public safety office as well as the county sheriff’s office. Then they went outside to wait.”

A couple had come up to the table and were listening to the story along with Alec and me. The gentleman interrupted.

“Talking about the massacre again, Eloise?”

“Jack! I didn’t get there yet.”

“Are these the new owners?” Jack said, looking at us.

“Yes, I’m Alec. This is my wife, Ally.” We shook hands.

“I’m Jack Bodner. This is my wife, Cheryl. Don’t let Eloise scare you. This is a great town. I’ve lived here all my life and nothing like this has ever happened before or since.”

“What happened?” Alec asked.

“Massacre?” I said at the same time.

“As I was saying,” Eloise continued, “the cleaning crew went to their van to wait for law enforcement. When they arrived, the crew let them in and all were almost overcome by the noxious odor. They opened the basement door and confirmed that the smell was emanating from there. They turned on the light and headed down the stairs.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it,” interrupted Cheryl. “It was all over the news for weeks. Some crime scene technician leaked the photos online. I almost threw up when I saw them.”

“I told you not to look at them, Cheryl.”

“Someone online said the picture looked like a Rubens painting, Massacre of the Innocents. I wanted to see.”

“Can I please finish the story?”

“Sorry, Eloise.”

“So, they found all the guests on the floor of the basement, a mass of bubbling, rotting flesh. From what the coroner could figure out, they had all been in the basement, perhaps drinking and playing billiards. Then someone or someones introduced them to an ax and a chainsaw. Had to be more than one since there were 16 of them. Figure a single person could have been overpowered.”

“Unless they were all high and drunk. You know how those people can be,” said Cheryl.

“16!?” I screeched.

“Yeah. They were arranged just so on the floor of the basement and covered with some sort of acid. The walls were painted with blood.”

I looked at Alec. “We never looked at the basement.”

“Oh, they had Hazmat out there and any other number of professionals to investigate then clean it out. The Robinsons paid a good amount to make it like new.”

“How do you know what they paid, Eloise?” asked her husband.

“Oh, I know things,” she said. He shook his head, muttering under his breath something about nosy busy bodies.

“Anyway, that’s the story. They have no evidence. No clues. No suspects. Any fingerprints found belonged to the guests. There was no forced entry. The security cameras around the property don’t show any unusual activity. And they couldn’t locate anyone who might want any or all the guests dead. It’s a mystery,” she finished before plopping down next to her husband.

“Well, it’s great to meet you both. Welcome and I wish you many years of happiness in your new home.”

“Thank you, Eloise. Nice to meet you all,” I choked out before we headed to our car.

We were silent on the drive home. Once there, we sat in the garage a minute or two before we looked at each other and started laughing.

“I bet they name it one day: The legend of the Robinson house massacre.”

“Seriously. I couldn’t write it better than Eloise tells it.”

“Sixteen people!”

“I bet she’ll be saying 20 by next summer,” I laughed as we entered the house. “I’m gonna start setting up my studio on the screened in porch.”

“Need help?”

“No, thanks, though.”

“K. Gonna set up my office. I have some work to do.”

“Okay, baby.”

The months passed and fall turned to winter. Early January found us stocking up at the general store after hearing another twice-in-a-lifetime blizzard was forecast.

“Take care folks. You know what happened at your place the last time there was a blizzard,” the owner said without a smile.

“Kathy!” said one of the other customers to her.

“Just sayin’, Eleanor!”

“No need to go scaring folks like that,” Eleanor replied.

“No worries, ma’am. We don’t scare that easily,” Alec said to Eleanor.

“I’m Eleanor Brigsby. I know you are Alec and Ally. Small town.” She smiled. “We were good friends of Edna and Bill before they moved away.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Spent many an afternoon sitting in their backyard over the years. Our kids used to play together. Lovely family.”

“Nice.”

“I was just telling my Joe,” she indicated the man next to her, “you could be a Robinson. You have the same electric blue eyes they were known for around here.”

“Really? Neat. I wish I could have met them.”

“Me, too. I’m sure they would have liked you. They lost both their children not long ago. Around your age, I suspect.”

“Oh no! That’s so sad.”

“Yes. Tragic, actually. Both were freak accidents.”

“You don’t say? I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, Edna, already ill, never recovered.”

“Oh no…what a shame.” I paused. “Well, be safe. Roads are already getting bad,” I said after getting my change from Kathy. The ladies and Joe murmured their goodbyes as I followed Alec out of the store.

As we got close to home, I said, “Was that weird?”

“Don’t go borrowing trouble. She’s just a nice old lady.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so. No one knows. There has never been any mention of any way someone could have gotten in the house undetected. And lots of people have blue eyes. No one has recognized you. You haven’t been here since you were a kid.”

“You’re right. I look more like my dad’s family than the Robinson’s anyway. And you did wipe out all references to the tunnel in the underground railroad literature. My computer wizard,” I said leaning over to kiss him as he pulled into our garage. “I knew it was only a matter of time before the house would be ours. I’ve loved it since the summer I came here to visit Uncle Bill and Aunt Edna.”

“I know.”

“Uncle Bill never got along with my mom so that was the only time I ever got to come visit before they stopped talking to each other at all. Glad I remembered the tunnel.”

“And that it was your secret. I can’t believe no one else knew and that you didn’t tell anyone.”

“My cousins followed their parents’ lead. They didn’t like me. I had a lot of time on my hands to explore. Why would I share my discovery with them?

“If they would have just sold it to us, no one would have gotten hurt. But noooo, they wanted to keep it in their family. As if I didn’t count. I mean after they were in Arizona and then both their kids were dead: Why did they need it?”

“Nostalgia?”

“Ha! Whose house is it now?” I said, doing a little dance as I opened the door to the kitchen.

I stopped.

“Alec, were you cooking something before we left?”

“No. Why?”

“Look.”

On the stove, the pot was boiling over. The scent of roses filled the air. I turned right and saw the basement door was ajar.

We looked at each other.

“Someone knows.”