A. Renee Art

Janet, Merc, and Connor approached the doors of the Roberts Mansion when they recalled the report that Vivian was found in front of her home. She was found by Mary Martinez, the newest maid who was hired there.

Entering the unlocked home, they were met with the kind of opulence befitting an upper-class politician’s family: High ceilings, curved staircases, statues, expensive furniture, and a painted family portrait in the living room above the fireplace. Janet mentioned that Sheriff Howard had given her the code to the security room, so they decided to start there. They found it on the first floor next to what appeared to be a gym.

On a table in front of some key hooks was a small, golden, ornate key, labeled “Trisha.” On the wall above, were several labels for keys to the attic, guest room, garage, servant’s room, and nanny room. Janet grabbed the only keys that were there, the servant’s room, Trisha’s and the nanny’s room. Merc picked up a copy of two maps to the mansion, divided between the first and second floors, from a drawer and a security desk logbook. Connor found a shelf of employee record files marked every five years beginning with 1970. The last files were labeled with the years 1990-1995, ending with the year of Vivian’s murder. He then went over the boxes of videotapes and televisions, checking for tapes labeled with the pivotal year.

“Think we should try watching these,” he asked Janet.

“The sheriff told me they went over the tapes from that night over and over,” Janet explained. “Nothing came from it. Either the killer was lucky enough to not be caught on camera, or they knew where the cameras were and could avoid them.”

He sighed with relief, saying, “That’s fine. You never know what’s on a randomly stored unmarked VHS these days, anyway.”

Janet and Merc exchanged looks of confusion and Merc shrugged. While leaving the room to search the rest of the floor, they heard knocking at the front door.

“Who’s that,” asked Janet.

“Probably the girls,” assumed Connor.

“They’re supposed to be at the church. They can’t have finished already. We just started here.”

“I’ll go check,” Merc said and headed for the front door while calling, “Hey Liddie, is that you?” Opening the door, he saw no one. “Maddie? Caylix?” Still no answer. “What the hell?” He returned to Janet and Connor and shrugged with confusion.

They dismissed it as the wind or perhaps some small rubble from the house giving way and falling against the door and moved on to find and explore the nanny’s and servant’s rooms, both on the first floor. First was the nanny’s room.

According to her employee sheet, Dorothy Patterson was the longest serving employee of the Roberts Family, hired in 1962. She did housework and later became the nanny in charge of childcare when Trisha was born. Exploring her desk, the first thing Janet found was a letter of resignation from Dorothy, reading:

January 31, 1996

Dear Charles,

I have worked here for your family for over thirty years, over twenty here at the mansion, and I am glad to have worked here and gotten to know so many people. I appreciate the opportunity to care for your daughter, Trisha.

I am glad to see Trisha become a wonderful young lady, despite the tragedy that befell her mother. She used to be so lonely when you and Vivian were away, busy with family business and town events. If there is a silver lining from what happened, it’s that you and Trisha have become closer.

I will always hold onto and cherish the moments when Painscreek was a better place. I’m sorry that I am leaving and won’t be able to serve you anymore. I wish you happiness and good luck to Trisha in college.

Thank you for everything and please, take care of yourself and Trisha.

Sincerely,

Dorothy Patterson

P.S. Thank you for paying off the mortgage to my cottage, despite my not really using it in over a year, but it’s obvious that I no longer need it. I will have left the key to the door under my mat in case you or Trisha happen to need it one last time.

P.P.S. Her things are still there, by the way. I’ve kept them all this time.

The only other thing they found was a blue baby bonnet under her empty bed.

Next was the servant’s room, which had nothing but an old chore list and a broken bunk bed. As far as keys left, that left the one to Trisha’s old room, but there were other rooms left to search on the ground floor, starting with the gym.

Five lockers were in the gym, one for each of the Roberts family members, and one each for Derrick Tyler, and Bernard Hopkins. According to the marked-up schedule that remained, Bernard was exercising three times a week compared to everyone else. Connor found and took a key from inside Bernard’s locker.

Next was the gallery, containing a personal collection of various artworks, some from local artists, others from across the country, and even a lesser famous Monét. Janet couldn’t believe it was just sitting here, unlooted. She made note of it in her notepad, along with the name of a curator friend of hers for later. Finally, it was time to go upstairs.

They came upon a pool table and a bar with more unopened wine and suddenly Merc and Connor felt a little older and cooler. Janet managed to bring them back to task and they headed for Trisha’s room.

When Janet opened the door to the room, she had second thoughts about the three of them going in.

“Actually,” she began, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for two teenage boys to be in here.”

“She doesn’t live here anymore,” Merc said.

“I know, but wherever she is, a girl’s old room remains sacred. Also, I might have better insight into her psychology here compared to you two. You understand, don’t you?”

“I guess a guy with a video camera going into a girl’s room, even an abandoned one, isn’t a great look,” Connor said.

Janet lightly nodded.

“We’ll go find Vivian’s office,” Merc said. “It’s marked on the map alongside the tearoom.”

“Alright, then we’ll head for the master bedroom,” agreed Janet.