'A Broker's Descent', by Alice Baburek
Ray Connors smiled as he drove his brand-new Mercedes up the long, winding road. Recently, he was awarded the most promising realtor in Clark County. If anyone could sell the old Heinz mansion, it was him.
Over the years, folklore has kept potential buyers of the mansion at bay. It was said that the Heinz family immigrated to the United States in the throes of World War II. Hans Heinz, a wealthy banker in Germany, came and built the mansion for his family. After living in their new home for a year, tragedy struck. It rocked the tiny town when the Heinz family of four was found brutally murdered on Thanksgiving Day in 1935. The only cold case that remains unsolved in the quaint town of Leavenworth, Washington.
Town folks claim the murdered family for the past ninety years return every Thanksgiving for a holiday feast. Strange noises, flickering lights, and paranormal activities were experienced according to many of the 1,995 residents of Leavenworth.
What others considered to be cursed or taboo, Ray saw opportunity. High-dollar opportunity. And he would prove it soon enough. He did not believe in ghosts and goblins.
The Heinz mansion, as it was nicknamed decades ago, came with one hundred acres of prime real estate. The land alone was worth at least two million dollars. But the mansion needed extensive renovations inside and out.
As Ray rounded the slight bend in the long driveway, he slowed down and parked his new car near the silver BMW. His client arrived early.
Ray stepped out of his car. He ran his hand lightly over his recently cut hair. He adjusted his tie and coat. His designer suit fit snug around his athletic frame. As he walked over to the other vehicle, he noticed there was no one inside. Where was the client?
“Mr. Connors?” a male voice called from the side of the house.
Ray looked up and made eye contact with a tall man dressed in expensive business clothes.
“Ray…call me Ray.”
He hurried along with a pearly white smile plastered across his face.
“I’m Jackson Percer,” said the client. Both men shook hands.
Ray cleared his throat.
“Well, what do you think of her?”
He gestured toward the run-down mansion and overgrown landscape.
Jackson glanced at the house.
“I thought it would be in better shape. But, then again, it doesn’t really matter. Let’s have a look inside…shall we?”
And before Ray could reply, Percer skirted up the brick steps to the front door. Its massive doorway intimidated the tiny men.
Ray opened the lock box and unlocked the massive wooden door. It creaked in protest as the two men stepped inside. A musky, damp smell hit them. Dirt and debris littered the entranceway.
“How long has it been empty?” asked Percer.
Ray wasn’t expecting to give its history. All of the information was detailed with the listing, including previous owners.
“There were officially three owners since the death of the original owner, Hans Heinz. The previous owner moved out in the late 1990s. It’s been vacant since then.”
The two men moved further inside the dank mansion.
Percer looked all around. His brows furrowed. He shook his head slightly up and down. Ray did not want to lose the sale.
“I know it needs a lot of work, but the attraction here is the land. It can be developed into anything you want. It was rezoned for commercial use. One hundred acres of prime real estate.”
His arms outstretched.
Jackson stopped dead in his tracks. He locked eyes with Ray. There was very little light filtering through the enormous, filthy windows.
“I heard the mansion is haunted.”
Ray blinked several times. He had to think quickly about how to debunk the folklore.
“How can a house this old not have a few friendly ghosts? It’s all part of the mansion’s appeal. You could turn this place into a bed and breakfast. Superstition alone would guarantee bookings for years to come!”
He flashed a smile.
“Town folks say it happens every Thanksgiving. The lost souls of the Heinz family return to face their deaths each year. In fact, their murders are still unsolved.”
The client crossed his arms.
“Jackson…how can I ease your concerns?”
Ray stepped toward the backpedaling buyer. He was losing the sale and fast.
Jackson rocked on his feet.
“There’s one way to prove it’s all nonsense. Thanksgiving is next Thursday. Stay here Thursday night and see for yourself. And I want the truth and proof you were here the entire night.”
His lips narrowed.
Ray’s head snapped back.
“You must be joking. You honestly want me to stay here alone on Thanksgiving night? Why?”
“If I should purchase the ‘Heinz’ mansion, I would like to know if the folklore surrounding the Heinz family is true. Besides, we’re talking about a seven-digit figure, Ray. You have plenty of time to clean up a few rooms and turn on the utilities.”
Jackson turned to leave.
“Wait! Jackson…alright. If I stay, will you make me an offer? Ghosts or no ghosts?”
His back was to the wall.
Jackson gave a half smile, then slowly nodded.
“You have my word.”
**
Ray hired a contractor to do quick renovation work in the main sitting area and in one bedroom on the second floor, where he would spend Thanksgiving night. It was enough to make him comfortable. He also had the internet connected so he could use his laptop. Hopefully, there will be no hiccups. How bad could it possibly be to spend the night in a spooky mansion?
**
Thanksgiving Day turned out to be a pleasant one. Temperatures reached nearly sixty degrees, and the sun shone brightly on a cloudless day.
Ray arrived at the Heinz mansion just as the sun was beginning to set. He parked in front and retrieved his bag and laptop from the trunk. As he unlocked the front door, he used his phone to video the event. Once inside, he switched on the lights in the sitting room. All the antique furniture had been thoroughly cleaned and polished. He set up his laptop on the desk that sat against the back wall.
“This isn’t too bad,” he mumbled to himself.
Minutes later, he was searching the internet for his next big deal, scrolling through endless pages of high-priced homes. Even if he had to travel to another state, his license as a real estate broker made it legal.
As he scanned the listings in the state of Oregon, suddenly the lights in the room flickered. The electrical system had been one of the things he made sure was working. In fact, he paid the electrician a hefty sum for a rush job. It was all up to code. But now it seemed as if there was a problem with the connections or the fuse box itself.
“Great,” he said out loud as the lights went out.
He used his cell phone to see. Inside his bag, he pulled out a large flashlight—just in case. When he clicked it on, it lit up almost the entire area.
Determined to find the problem, Ray decided to head into the basement where the electrical box was located. The old wooden floor creaked as he walked through the kitchen to a door, which he assumed led downstairs.
As Ray turned the tarnished knob, he heard sounds coming from the parlor. How was that possible? He knew he was the only one in the house. Abandoning the basement, he retraced his steps back into the sitting room.
“What the…?”
Ray’s eyes widened. There in the ancient fireplace were embers burning orange and yellow flames. He swiveled, shining the flashlight everywhere. But he was alone.
Instantly, he took a picture of the burning fireplace with his phone. He also snapped a few more photos to show Percer.
“He’d better buy this dump after all of these shenanigans,” he said out loud to know one.
His nerves were on edge. Someone had to start the fire. Either the person was hiding or sneaked out the front door. He hoped it was the latter. Ray did not like the idea of another person rummaging through the house without his permission.
As Ray turned to search for the electrical box again, the lights suddenly came back on. This whole thing had become ludicrous. He shouldn’t even be inside the mansion, let alone sleeping overnight. Now, whoever was there with him was messing with the lights.
“Just one night,” he whispered.
Ray plopped down in front of his laptop. But when he opened the lid, an article from the Leavenworth Post dated Friday, November 29, 1935, filled the screen.
“…screams coming from inside the house. Mrs. Vernon, the Heinz neighbor, had come to bring a pumpkin pie for the family on Thanksgiving Day. She tried desperately to get inside but could not. She then drove back to her house and called Leavenworth’s Police Department to report the incident. Within the hour, Sheriff Aaron Tanner and two deputies arrived at the scene, unbeknownst to the horror that was awaiting them inside.
“Mr. Hans Heinz, his wife Greta, and their two children, Albert (10) and Hannah (8), were pronounced deceased at the crime scene. The State Police has been called in to help with the investigation into their brutal deaths.”
Ray slowly closed the lid of the laptop. And to this day, their murders have not been solved. It doesn’t get any creepier than that. Unless you have to stay Thanksgiving night in a haunted house, he thought.
Once again, the lights flickered then went out. Ray let out a huge sigh. He was almost to the point of leaving the house and his huge commission behind. He could hear the crackling of burning wood behind him. How could that be? He slowly turned around. The glow from the fireplace gave off a soft light. This couldn’t be real! But he could feel the heat radiating from the fire.
Someone had to be in the house trying to scare Ray out of his profit. But it would not work. He was here to stay the entire night.
Without hesitation, he sat down closer to the fire. Ray’s mind shifted to that awful night of terror. It must have been terrible for the Heinz family as they ate during the Thanksgiving celebration. He knew that with his family, it was quite different. With a drunk as his father and an absent mother, his sister Janice was the only one he could depend on. It wasn’t until his Aunt Mary persuaded her alcoholic brother to allow the children to live with her that a small slice of normality was brought to their lives.
His shoulders sagged. Eyes filled with tears. Ray sniffled back years of neglect and loneliness. Even living with his aunt, he could not find a place where he belonged.
Suddenly, the room grew cold. The fire dimmed. Ray stood up. He could see his breath. Why was it so cold? And then he saw them. His eyes were wide.
It was the Heinz family. A tall man, dressed in high-rise trousers, a white wingtip shirt, a bow tie, a button vest, and Oxford shoes, smiled at the woman who held a tray. Her pale, high-collared blouse and long hemline skirt followed the curves of her body. The short curly hair bounced as she set the food down on the dining table.
Ray could not move. He was cemented in place as he watched the unfolding scene before him. Seconds later, two giggling children ran into the room. He could only assume it was Albert and Hannah—a young boy dressed in a grey button-down shirt with a pair of knickers held up by suspenders. The child’s shoes were flat with a pair of socks stopping below the knee. The little girl with loads of curls grabbed her brother. The floral waistless dress and puffy sleeves did not stop her from playing.
A shaky voice boomed.
“Children…sit. Let us give thanks for this plentiful dinner.”
Heinz gestured for the children to sit down at the table. The room was suddenly filled with candles. Greta smiled as her husband held her chair.
“Thank you, my darling,” came another trembling voice.
Heinz took his seat at the head of the table.
“Let us pray and give thanks for this blessed food which we are about to receive.”
The family held hands and lowered their heads.
Ray shivered. It was so cold, yet he could not draw his eyes away from the ghostly apparitions.
All of a sudden, a shadowy figure spread from within the dark corner. Ray tried to yell and warn them. But no words came out of his mouth.
The hooded slithering entity glided across the room toward the unsuspecting family. And with one swift movement, they all disappeared within a wispy mist that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
The living room became silent, and the lights came back on. Once a warm fire, now replaced by dirt and debris.
Ray’s heartbeat faster. Is this what the previous owners experienced each year? Or was he losing his mind? Would Percer believe him? He had no proof—only his words.
**
The bright sunlight peered through the filthy windows. Ray did not sleep a wink. In fact, he did not move the entire night from the chair next to one of the grimy windows as he waited impatiently for dawn.
Ray picked up his belongings, knowing he would never return. As he hurriedly made his way to leave, he swore he could still smell the wood burning in the fireplace as he closed the front door.
**
Jackson Percer read the strange email from Ray Connors. The realtor had stayed Thanksgiving night as agreed at the Heinz mansion. Ray noted there was paranormal activity, but he had no proof to show the client, thus voiding their verbal agreement. The email also informed Jackson that Ray was no longer a realtor broker and suggested he seek assistance from other reputable brokers in Washington state if pursuing such property.
The older man, decided to call Ray Connors, only to receive a message that the number was no longer in service. What could have happened to Connors that made him quit his job and change his number?
Jackson swiveled in his high-back leather chair. Maybe he would have to see for himself since Ray had no definite proof of paranormal activity. He leaned back in his chair and placed a call.
“Lance Williams, real estate broker,” came a deep male voice.
“Mr. Williams…I am Jackson Percer, a commercial real estate buyer. I’m interested in a certain house and its acreage that has been vacated for years, located in Leavenworth, Washington. People call it the ‘Heinz’ mansion.”
Lance knew the property well and all its history. He also knew the sale could easily reach a seven-figure amount, which would mean an enormous commission for him.
“Well, Mr. Percer…you called the right broker. Here’s what I suggest we do….”
Alice Baburek is an avid reader, determined writer and animal lover. She lives with her wife and four canine companions. Retired, she challenges herself to become an unforgettable emerging voice.
