Room of Death--Here Today and Gone Tomorrow, page 1
ROOM OF DEATH
HERE TODAY AND GONE TOMORROW
THE DEMON GORGE TRILOGY
An International Murder Mystery
PART I OF III
by
Sidney St. James
You gave too much rein to your imagination. Imagination is a good servant, and a bad master. The simplest explanation is always the most likely.
-—Agatha Christie
Table of Contents
Title Page
Room of Death - Here Today and Gone Tomorrow (Demon Gorge Trilogy, #1)
Dedication
Introduction | The Manuscript is Received
Chapter ONE | Wildest Part of the Coast in Black Rock Cove
Chapter TWO | Coming Home for Summer Vacation
Chapter THREE | Where o Where Did Samuel Go?
Chapter FOUR | The Voyage
Chapter FIVE | The Duel to the Death
Chapter SIX | The Guards Finally Depart the Lighthouse
Chapter SEVEN | A Kiss for a Kiss
Chapter EIGHT | A Trip to the Reynolds Island Estate
Chapter NINE | The Secret of Demon Gorge
Chapter TEN | Hypnosis is the Only Way
Chapter ELEVEN | The Last Will & Testament of Princess Covington
Chapter TWELVE | A Witness in the Darkness
Chapter THIRTEEN | Alyssa Makes Her Confession
Chapter FOURTEEN | The Ghosts of the Gardens
EPILOGUE | This Novel Grows and Grows
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Further Reading: Tears Are Words from the Heart
Also By Sidney St. James
About the Author
About the Publisher
Published by BeeBop Publishing Group
Georgetown, Texas
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of the publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors or changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for the author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2022 by Sidney St. James
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. Published simultaneously in Canada.
FIRST EDITION
ROOM OF DEATH
THE DEMON GORGE TRILOGY
Book 1 of 3
Mystery and Suspense
This novel's jacket format and design are protected trade dresses and trademarks of Sidney St. James and the BeeBop Publishing Group.
Published Simultaneously in Canada
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
COMING SOON IN PAPERBACK
Dedication
You know how it is. You pick up this book, flip to the dedication, and find that I once again dedicated a book to someone else and not to you.
NOT THIS TIME MY READING FRIENDS!
Because we haven’t yet met... have only a glancing acquaintance... are just crazy about each other... haven’t seen each other in a very long time... are in some kind of way related... will never meet, but will, I trust, despite that, always think warmly of each other!
*Waves*
Introduction
The Manuscript is Received
No one reads a mystery to get to the middle of the book. They read the novel to get to the end. It’s the intention of this mystery to entertain you from the very beginning. In other words, the first page wishes to invite the reader to buy the novel. I trust the story's last page will entice you to go to the next book.
With that said, I believe every reader at the bottom of their heart feels they are a born detective. So, as the story you are about to encounter, as the author, I will, from one chapter to the next, distract you as I scatter clues so as not to let you figure out or solve the case too soon.
Happy Reading.
Chapter ONE
Wildest Part of the Coast in Black Rock Cove
Some few years ago, a series of events happened of something so incredible had their authenticity had not been proven in a court of law.
On the wildest part of the coast in western Oregon, there was a frightful ravine cloven down through the large jagged cliffs, several hundred feet in depth, near the Pacific Ocean, gradually lessening toward the interior of the state until it finally disappeared about a mile inland.
This ravine was filled with water to half its depth and length at high tide. At low tide, it was dry as a bone.
This chasm was called by the people in Black Rock Cove ‘Demon Gorge’ and was fashioned out of the solid black rocks by imps of darkness in one single night.
However, if you talk to scientists, such as Johnathan Knight, a famous Nobel Prize Winner, he would tell you that it was riven by some convulsion of nature in one moment.
In either case, science and tradition agree that it existed from a time when you and my memory do not go.
This part of the coast belonged to the vast estate of Johnathan Knight, whose home sat high on the edge of the mountains just outside Black Rock Cove.
The course of Demon Gorge was due south. On the western bank, near the Pacific, were the ruins of an old lighthouse. Very little of anything remained but the ground floor and the dungeon cut out of solid rock.
No one knew or could discover who she was, where she came from, and how she even got there.
The only thing we can tell you in our story is that on one bitter-cold morning in January, the snow was deep on the ground, and there were no clouds in the sky. As a result, the people of Black Rock Cove, a fishing village, saw smoke issuing out from the lighthouse.
The residents of the small village knew the building was not on fire since nothing was left to burn. After all, it was just a bunch of crumbled stones, and we all know they don’t catch on fire nor smoke.
A handful of residents left the village to go and investigate. Later that night, they returned, and over some pitchers of Coors Beer, they made this report:
As the three men approached the old lighthouse, nothing was left but the ground floor, the basement, or possibly a dungeon below it. They saw that the top rocks had been stacked to make a makeshift room with lots of loose stones for a side chimney.
The men got out of their car, circled around the side of the dilapidated structure, and found a doorway... or what was once a door hundreds of years earlier. Now, after missing an entry for over a century, there hung a red blanket.
Randall, the first man of the group, pushed aside the blanket and entered the room in which the light and air came only from the holes left in the walls from broken stones.
He and the others stopped in amazement. A small child slept in a poorly constructed apple crate for a cradle. The child looked no more than nine months of age. He or she had a dark olive complexion.
Over alongside the room was a roaring fireplace made of driftwood, probably gotten from the abyss when the tide was out.
Next to the cradle was a rude bed made of wood. The mattress was covered with a bright-colored patchwork blanket with dark green pillows.
On the other side of the room was an oak table and several chairs surrounding it, along with some other articles of furniture.
Randall and the other two men stood frozen and gazed about the room in astonishment. “Why I wonder, are all these things here? There is no sign of any vehicle outside in the snow coming here.”
The other man, Henry, said, “I wonder how all of this got here?”
Before the three men could say another word of their conversation, the blanket behind them was thrown open, and there stood a woman that the only way to describe was crazy as Hell.
She was a tall, stout woman of about forty years of age and had coarse red hair. Her eyes were blue and fearful to look in their wildness.
She was wearing a long blue gown with her hair pulled back and tied with a handkerchief. Although she just came in from the outside, she wore nothing more than a light dress... unusual, to say the least. “What are you three men doing here?” she asked in a harsh voice as she looked eye to eye with the three intruders.
Randall, Henry, and Jack all stood and looked at the woman, not saying a word. Then, Randall said, “If you please, ma’am, we saw the smoke coming out of the old lighthouse here and came to see who it was that moved into this old room.”
The woman quickly replied, “Okay, so now that you have seen what you came to see, you may now just turn yourself around and go back to your own home,” said the six-foot-tall woman as she pulled the blanket back to assist the men in departing.
Randall continued, “One word, please, before we go. This old lighthouse is on Johnathan Knight’s property. We would like to know if you have permission to be here, or are you trespassing?”
The woman walked across the room for a quick answer, seized a double barrel shotgun leaning near the fireplace, and took
aim at Randall. “If you men do not leave the room now, I will send the first charge through you and the next through one of the other two.”
Randall didn’t hesitate. He threw up his hands in deprecation, turned, and high-tailed out the makeshift living accommodations. The other two men followed suit. They couldn’t tell who the angry woman intended the second barrel to be aimed at if she should fire first!
The men reached their car and got there as fast as possible. Then, half in zeal and half in resentment, they drove straight to Johnathan Knight’s home and told Justin Simmons, the butler, of their discovery at the lighthouse of the tramp of a woman... a squatter and trespasser.
Much to their surprise, Justin advised them to mind their own affairs in town and leave the woman at the lighthouse alone.
THE TRAMP, SQUATTER, or whatever one would call the woman, continued to live in the tower and rear the child she brought with her. Nothing more transpired over the winter concerning the woman and child except that her name was Victoria Meret, and the child was called Lucas Durano.
As the winter passed, and the apple blossoms were on the estate's trees, Victoria Meret was joined by another eighteen-year-old woman who looked enough like the older woman, except she was a good two inches taller. She had to be her daughter. The villagers called her an Amazon.
The villagers in Black Rock Cove thought her to be her older daughter, they began to call her the Young Victoria... and others, as we said, called her Amazon. Mere conjecture had it that maybe she was the mother of the child and not Victoria.
Spring had blossomed and gone away. The weather was hot and humid when a sudden advent of Victoria at the lighthouse that everyone thought might demand her expulsion from the neighborhood.
Jean-Marc Knight, a captain in the National Guard, was visiting the Johnathan Knight estate, his uncle. But, unfortunately, he only had his pay, and he fell in love without the remotest probability of succeeding to the owner of the grand estate at the age of twenty-six years. Her name was Brigitte Beaux, the portionless daughter of Johnathan’s estate.
His relationship was struck while visiting his uncle’s estate and continued to where he offered her his hand in marriage. She accepted.
Jean-Marc was so excited and agreed to an early date for the ceremony. He invited his cousin, Oliver Courbis. He was handsome, fascinating, and the heir to his father’s estate down the coast, over 20,000 acres.
A sudden mutual passion sprang up between Jean-Marc’s cousin and his betrothed bride.
In a nutshell, the woman quickly transferred her affection to the wealthier and more handsome suitor. Naturally, the feeling was mutual, and Oliver did not hesitate to steal his cousin’s affianced bride.
Jean-Marc never got over his displeasure and never forgave anyone concerned in the wrong that they had done to him. But, in the meanwhile, he changed completely. He lived on the wild side of life at home and on duty somewhere when he was furloughed.
Many years passed. And I do mean many. Jean-Marc had just turned sixty-five and found that he was now the heir apparent of the large Johnathan Knight’s estate.
The lonely old man now had only two regrets. The first is his hated cousin and successful rival, Oliver Courbis, who was his heir presumptive and would succeed to his heirship of the estate. And his second regret was that he had not married earlier in life and provided himself with a long line of sons and daughters to succeed him... to carry on his family name.
Although up in years, Jean-Marc was determined to take a wife and hope that it wasn’t too late to prevent the succession by his cousin to the entire Knight estate. Thus, his hatred of his cousin led him to his late-in-life marriage.
Jean-Marc looked around and around. He sought a woman with good health and lots of vigor to be his bride. He didn’t care if she was wealthy or not or if she didn’t have much beauty. Finally, however, he did find a woman who accepted his hand in marriage, even though he was sixty-five years of age.
It took two years, but it finally happened. The union with this woman was gratified by the birth of an heir to the estate. However, it happened with the greatest of sacrifice, for when the baby was born and came him a son, he lost his wife.
From her earliest days in life, Jean-Marc's wife had always suffered from great fear of snakes. As one can only imagine, the woman would scream and turn pale and sometimes faint at any sight of a piece of string laying on the floor or a curled stick on the ground.
In the last days of Lorrie’s pregnancy, towards the end of the summer, six months after the strange arrival of the crazy woman, Victoria Meret, an incident occurred. Victoria made her way to the main house on the estate and insisted on seeing Jean-Marc’s wife, who declined to admit her.
That didn’t stop Victoria. She went around and through the kitchen and made her way into the woman's presence with the child. She told her that she was a snake in the grass and that in a few days, if not weeks, she would die by the serpent's fangs.
Well, it happened again. The woman screamed and fainted with great fear. Victoria was escorted from the home and watched closely so she would never be allowed again in the house.
Lorrie gained consciousness. However, the hag’s words dwelt on her mind and depressed her spirits. The servants in the household and Jean-Marc himself assured Lorrie that this malignant old crone had heard of her dread of snakes. She took advantage of that to terrify her.
Two weeks before her expected due date, she walked alone in the estate's beautiful gardens, and a harmless green grass snake crossed her path. She jumped in fright, and when her foot came down, it stepped on the snake’s tail. The small reptile was also frightened and, in trying to protect itself, coiled around Lorrie’s ankle and sank its small teeth into her ankle.
Then, she fell to the ground and fainted, just as one of the gardeners who saw what happened from a distance raced over to help her. He picked her body off the cobblestone pathway and carried her back to the house.
The grass snake made good his escape.
Lorrie was placed in her bed in a state of profound unconsciousness. She finally came to but found herself arousing to a severe illness.
Doctor Cantu was summoned from Black Rock Cove to attend to Lorrie.
It all happened so fast. The following day a delicate baby boy was hurried too soon into this world. Lorrie took her last breath at the same time the baby boy took his first!
Furthermore, when bathing the child, they noticed the continuous birthmark wrapped around the baby’s ankle that he would no doubt take to his grave, even though he lived to a ripe old age of one hundred. It looked like a slender green snake that had coiled itself and left an indelible impression!
Doctor Cantu noticed it. The nurse in the room shuddered as she saw it.
Six months later, Jean-Marc got himself up from a stupor of grief into which his wife’s sudden and shocking death plunged him. He then started to give all his thought and mind to the care of the fragile life of his son.
Jean-Marc was actuated by three of the strongest passions known that govern a man's mind. Love, ambition, and hatred.
First, the love for his son of such intensity as can be felt by none save the aged parent of an only child whose life was bound up with all his affection and pride.
Secondly, the ambition that this precious son should live to succeed to keep on the name of Knight for more generations to come.
And, lastly, his burning hatred for Oliver Courbis, who had wronged him and done an absolute unpardonable wrong, and who, failing this fragile child of his, would become the new heir to the Knight legacy and the name of the Knight Family Estate would come to an end.
Although this hatred goes back to the days when the two were both young, it has lost nothing by the flight of time itself. On the contrary, it has grown deeper and fiercer with the passage of so many years!
And the hatred and ambition, coupled with his paternal love for Jean-Marc, moved the man to use every ordinary and extraordinary means possible to keep his young boy’s life safe and sound.
Under Doctor Cantu’s care and the nurse that helped raise the child, the fragile baby boy thrived and grew stronger daily. At the end of the first year, he was as fine a boy as any other his age.
