Chapter 26
Jennie
Newton Creek, Wisconsin
Present Day
“Where’s the rest of it?” Hannah popped her head up from the microfiche screen.
Pauline, the curator of the Brookland-Newton Creek Historical Museum, offered an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid that is all we have in the archives of the 1950 interview with Waverly Pembrooke.”
“That’s it?” Hannah sagged in her chair.
“Yes.” Pauline’s smile was understanding.
While disappointed, Jennie had expected this. If Waverly Pembrooke’s testimony of the events that took place then were complete, there would be no lingering mystery surrounding Traeger Hall.
“There’s nothing more at all?” Hannah asked again, as if Pauline could somehow make Waverly’s remaining pages of the interview suddenly appear.
“No. Not that has been found anyway.” Pauline leaned a hip against one of the museum’s research tables and crossed her arms. She had to be in her mid-fifties, Jennie guessed, which meant she had enough years here not to be a novice who had missed something.
“I had this same conversation with Allison Quincy years ago.” Pauline grew serious.
“It’s why I was so reticent to show these to you.
But with you”—she looked at Jennie—“being the owner of Traeger Hall and the sawmill ruins, I didn’t feel right withholding them either. ”
“You were the one who worked with Allison here at the museum?” Jennie wanted to know more about Allison, Milo’s mother, and find out the secrets of Traeger Hall—not for herself so much as for Zane and Milo.
They believed Allison’s death had been the result of her inquiring into the mystery of the historic house.
If they were right, didn’t they deserve to get some answers?
“I was.” Pauline nodded. She blew a small sigh from her lips. “She was a persistent young woman, and smart as a whip.”
“How so?” Hannah prodded.
Pauline looked toward the ceiling as if trying to recall the memories of her conversations with Allison.
“She had an innate ability to piece things together. Such as these incomplete archives from Waverly Pembrooke and the family tree with Louisa Theophilus that she found in a cabinet with other family records.” Pauline paused. “That’s when I became concerned.”
“Concerned about what?” Jennie rolled back in the office chair that she’d pulled up to the table with the microfiche, giving herself room to cross her legs.
Pauline pushed off the table and pulled up her own chair. There was a fervency in her green eyes that showed a deep worry, even after all these years.
“Allison’s cousin Rick—he got involved.”
“Rick? That’s Percy Wellington’s son,” Hannah added for Jennie’s benefit.
“Mm-hmm. He was convinced—as was his cousin Allison—that Leopold Traeger’s house had been shut up all these decades because there was treasure hidden inside.”
“A very popular theory,” Jennie confirmed.
Pauline waved a hand in the air. “What creepy old house doesn’t come with a rumor of treasure?
But Allison and Rick were of the mind that they had the right to open the place.
So they went to Rick’s dad, Percy, and everyone started getting excited because the will was no longer valid.
It had expired long ago. Allison believed all she needed to do was to convince the Newton Creek council members that the mansion should be reopened. ”
“And?” Hannah bit her fingernail.
“And she found out that the Newton Creek council had voted only a few months prior to sell the Traeger Estate to bring in more cash for the township.”
Jennie straightened. “Had they already sold it before Allison put in her request?”
“Mm-hmm.” Pauline pressed her lips together.
“Your father had put in an offer to buy up all the properties. The township needed the money, so they transferred the trouble and maintenance of Traeger Hall to be his responsibility, and that was that. Allison and Rick were completely out of luck because they would have to work with your father to gain access to the Hall.”
Jennie’s gut churned. Something was off. Terribly so. Her dad—her family—had no ties to Newton Creek. So how would Dad, not having a charitable bone in his body, have known about the opportunity to buy the Traeger Estate?
Pauline seemed to read the question on Jennie’s face. “Your family has no ties to this area.”
“I didn’t think so,” Jennie responded, still confused.
“But your father was a business associate of Percy Wellington’s father, Wellington Sr. That is who let your dad in on the rather easy purchase of valuable property.”
“And then Dad had him write up the codicil that keeps me from being able to sell the place.” Jennie could see it now.
“But why would your dad want to do that?” Hannah frowned.
The answer was simple. “Because,” Jennie said, “if there was potential for treasure or something valuable locked away inside, Dad would want it—or he’d at least want my mom to find it.
Not because he cared about her so much as the principle of the matter.
Dad never wanted to miss out on a good thing . . . even if he was dead.”
“And Traeger Hall stood closed until you arrived,” Pauline finished.
“So Jennie’s dad had already purchased the property before Allison disappeared?” Hannah tried to insert Allison back into the narrative.
Pauline nodded. Her contemplative look told Jennie that whatever she said next was merely conjecture.
“Your father had no motive to have anything to do with Allison’s death, Jennie, and he had already left Newton Creek two days before she went missing.
Allison and her cousin Rick probably made plans to break into Traeger Hall anyway.
Rick is . . . well, the law doesn’t apply to him, or so he thinks.
And Allison was such a good girl in so many ways, and yet she could be a pit bull once she latched on to an idea. ”
“Do you have suspicions as to why Traeger Hall was sealed?” That seemed the biggest question at this point. What would be so worth their locking up the place for a century, and what would be worth breaking into it so many years later regardless of the law and the consequences?
Pauline’s shrug wasn’t what Jennie was hoping for as a response. “Leopold Traeger dealt in a lot of questionable investments. Some believe he locked away vats of money in the basement and didn’t want anyone else to have it. He was a miser, they said. So sealing up his house was a last hurrah.”
“Money? That seems too typical.” Jennie felt disappointed. “What about fine art?”
Pauline laughed as she rose from her chair. “Or jewels maybe. Who knows? Maybe it was just Leopold Traeger’s last attempt to stay alive.”
Jennie frowned. “What do you mean?”
Pauline settled her gaze on Jennie and summarized, “Leopold Traeger didn’t want to die.
Think about it. He built a bell tower so it could be rung in case there was an attempt on his life.
His will demanded that his body remain in Traeger Hall for seven days to be sure he was really dead.
If he was that opposed to dying, I always wondered if he thought the only way he could keep his name alive was to seal up the house like a mystery and give his property to the very town that didn’t like him all that much.
They would never forget him. Not for decades. ”
“And that way,” Jennie finished, “Leopold Traeger never really died.”
“Right,” Pauline agreed. “He’s still very much alive. At least in Newton Creek. One hundred and thirty-five years later, Traeger Hall is still the center of the town, just as Leopold Traeger wanted it to be.”
Jennie curled up on the couch at the Harris place, with Hannah next to her, Allison’s shoebox in her lap. Zane was putting Milo to bed, night was settling in, and she had already shared the events from the afternoon at the museum with the Harrises.
“You know I don’t think Pauline is right, don’t you?” Hannah stated. “There is treasure inside. You just have to keep looking.”
Jennie managed a laugh while her tired spirit sort of wanted to just be done with it all.
“So this was Allison’s?” Hannah stared at the box with a bit of longing.
“Yeah.” Jennie offered Hannah a conciliatory smile. “I haven’t gone through it all yet. It’s mostly just papers.”
“I think we should call Rick Wellington and get his . . .” Greg Harris, the patriarch of the family, bit off his words as he sat in his recliner. He tried again. “I think he needs to answer for a few things.”
“I tried calling the Wellingtons. Percy said Rick is overseas in Japan.” Trixie eased onto her own recliner, a thermos of coffee in one hand and a chocolate chip cookie in the other. “He’s hardly been around since Allison disappeared.”
“That’s convenient,” Greg grumbled. “I bet he had something to do with her ending up in the creek.”
“Greg.” Trixie’s voice had an undertone of scolding.
He wasn’t dissuaded. “I’m just sayin’ it was no accident, Allison getting trapped under the mill wheel. A person doesn’t just slip into a creek and get herself wedged there with a concrete block tied to her feet like the Mafia paid her a visit.”
“But we don’t know it was Rick. That’s a dramatic accusation,” Trixie reprimanded her husband.
Greg gave his wife a dark look. “We don’t know it wasn’t Rick.”
“Okay, Dad, that’s enough.” Zane entered the living room, leaning against the doorway. “The biggest concern right now is why someone would leave a threatening note for Hannah. What does she have to do with anything?”
“It was probably a prank!” Hannah rolled her eyes. “Like, everyone in school knows by now that Jennie is here.”
“And nothing else has happened since, right?” Trixie raised her eyebrows at her daughter with a look that demanded complete honesty.
Hannah shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
“Who left the note then? Who threatened my daughter?” Greg wasn’t going to let up, and Jennie couldn’t blame him. Not to mention she thought she might be developing a sentimental affection for the man. He was what every little girl wanted in a dad. Protective, grouchy, but soft inside and genuine.
“Maybe I should just bulldoze the place,” Jennie stated. She couldn’t help herself. It would at least end the sensationalism that surrounded it.
“Don’t do that!” Hannah exclaimed.
“Hannah, it’s Jennie’s right to do what she wants with the place.” Trixie sipped her coffee.
“Do you all want me to?” Jennie figured it was as much their decision as hers. And maybe she should ask Gladys and Allison’s brother, Todd. Maybe try to meet Allison’s parents and—
“I don’t think it’s time yet,” Zane said.
Everyone looked at him, and he motioned toward the shoebox. “Allison was adamant about there being something in Traeger Hall. She wouldn’t give up on it, and I—well, back then I wish she would have—but now I feel like if we give up, I’m—”
“Giving up on her?” Jennie asked gently.
Zane cast her a look of gratitude. “Yeah. That.”
She wasn’t going to admit she felt that way too. For Allison, and for her mom.
“So?” Hannah tapped on the shoebox. “Are we gonna look?”
“You’re going to bed,” Trixie said.
Hannah scrunched up her face. “Mom, I’m sixteen. Since when do you send me off to bed?”
“Since now.” Greg pushed off the recliner and exchanged looks with Trixie. “Your mother and I are heading to bed too.”
“Yes.” Trixie caught the hint and stood.
“What?” Hannah was clueless.
“Bed. Now.” Greg’s commanding voice caused Hannah to leap from the couch, but then he grabbed for her as she shoved past, annoyed, and Greg ruffled her hair and gave her a sideways hug. “Let Zane and Jennie have a chance to go through Allison’s papers.”
Hannah stopped to look over her shoulder, and awareness flooded her face. “Oh, yeah.” She finally caught on that maybe Zane would need some privacy. “Good night,” Hannah chirped as she headed down the hallway.
“Night,” Jennie chimed back.
As Zane’s parents eased past him in the doorway, Trixie paused and put a motherly hand on her son’s arm. “Just remember, Allison cared about you. Whatever priority she gave Traeger Hall over you and Milo . . .”
“I know, Mom.” Zane gave a small smile.
“Okay.” She patted his arm and followed Greg to their bedroom.
Zane hefted a sigh and approached the couch, easing onto it next to Jennie. “Well, they cleared out fast.”
“Are you ready?” Jennie asked, her hands poised over the shoebox lid.
“Let’s do it,” Zane replied.