The Haunting Of Bechdel Mansion by Roger Hayden

books. She never thought she’d ever
marry a lawyer, but something about them just clicked. She had felt
it since day one.
    “It looks nice,” she said, her head turned
to the back window and watching the steeple as they continued on.
She sat down and touched Mark’s hand resting on the armrest. “Maybe
we should attend services next weekend and get to know some
people.”
    “Whatever your heart desires,” Mark said
with a smirk. He then shook his head. “The things I do for
love.”
    Mary turned to him, mouth agape. “As if it
would kill you to go to church.” She then leaned back against the
headrest and placed her sunglasses on. “I think it would be good
for us with everything that’s happened.”
    “Church is boring,” Curtis said
matter-of-factly.
    Mary laughed. “This coming from someone who
practices law.”
    They passed a park where children climbed a
jungle gym and a corner store to their right where an older man was
fueling up his boat hitched to his truck at the gas pump. Downtown
was in sight, and its series of brick roads, light posts, and
buildings. “Historic Downtown,” they called it. There was a fire
station to their left, small like everything else, that had its bay
doors open revealing a shiny red fire truck. A sign on the at the
end of the driveway said, “Redwood Fire Department.”
    A few blocks past the fire station, they saw
the police department again where two officers in beige uniforms
were talking outside the door. Their heads turned toward the
vehicle as Curtis passed and they waved. Curtis gave them a wave
back and smiled. “Isn’t this place something?” he asked Mary.
    “It does seem like a safe, nice town,” she
said. She scanned the buildings ahead, hoping to see the library.
Then she wondered if it would even be open on a Sunday. They passed
a book store with carts of old books out front, but that wasn’t
what she was looking for.
    “You could use this place in one of your
stories,” Curtis said. “Take your sketch pad out here and capture
it.”
    “I plan to,” Mary said, “but it’ll be for
fun. I don’t write the stories.”
    “I have you called your work yet and let
them know you’re settling in?” he asked.
    The thought so far hadn’t crossed her mind.
She’d been on maternity leave for few weeks and was planning on
taking at least one more. “I’ll call them tomorrow,” she said.
    “That’s what I like to hear,” Curtis said.
“Relax and put it off.” Curtis scanned the shops as they drove down
Main Street. Mary knew that he was looking for a potential spot to
set up his own practice, but their dwindling finances concerned
her. During the drive from Chicago, she had suggested that find a
partnership in Redwood. There had to be a law office out there
somewhere. He had originally balked at the idea, but they would
have to start somewhere.
    They came to a parking lot near a pizza
place aptly titled “Redwood Pizza,” completely with an
old-fashioned hanging sign in front of the door. It was the same
place they had ordered from the night before.
    “This looks like a good place to park and
walk around. Library’s just up the street,” he said, turning
in.
    Mary was relieved to hear it. Her desire for
knowledge on the mansion’s history was inescapable despite the
nonchalant, amiable face she was wearing. Curtis parked between a
truck and jeep and turned off the ignition while glancing the
rear-view mirror.
    “Bob Deckers,” he said, surprised.
    Mary turned her head. There was a man in
suit standing under the canopy of a building behind them. “Who?”
she asked.
    “That’s the guy who sold us the mansion.
Must be his realtor office,” Curtis said. He opened his door and
stepped out as Mary put on her sun hat and exited the car, her
sandals touching the hot pavement.
    They walked to the rear of the car where
Curtis maintained his attention on the man by the building. He
looked to be in his fifties with gray slicked black hair,