The Castle House
“I am well,” she said but I detected a note of anxiety in her voice.
“You sound worried. Has something happened?”
“Did you watch the morning news?’
“No.”
“The police found the bodies of two young boys in the castle house.”
I was suddenly cold. The castle house was across the street from Aunt Betsy and just down the block from where I grew up. When I was a youngster my friends and I were afraid of the castle house. The neighborhood rumor was that the house was haunted. It was a three-story house, larger than any other house in the neighborhood. It was old and somewhat worn. The heavy double front door at one time likely had expensive stained glass panels but was now boarded in plywood. The property was surrounded by waist-high weeds and the iron fence that surrounded the property was now broken in many places and rusted. It had a tall turret corner. The shingled roof was a dull green and damaged. Its color could have been the result of years of rainwater dripping through trees. That house had haunted my dreams for years. It was a scary-looking structure and no one had lived there in my lifetime.
“Oh my,” I said. The line was quiet for a few seconds. “How young were these boys?”
“The news said that they were ten and twelve-year-old brothers.”
“Do the police know what happened?”
“They say that the older boy fell through the floor and was impaled on some metal in the basement but the younger boy was dead and the police don’t know what he died from at this point.”
“Oh my God, Aunt Betsey. I’m so sorry to hear that. Are the boys from the neighborhood?” Do you know these boys?
“No. But I do know that squatters have lived on that property from time to time. Neighbors call the police and they are evicted. No one knows where those boys came from.”
“I am so sorry to hear such awful news. I always thought something terrible would happen in that house.” More silence followed. I wanted to bring up the subject of Aunt Betsy moving out of the neighborhood but I knew she would reject that idea as she had so many times before. “I will let you know what else I can find out.”
“Alright.”
“I’m glad that you are well Aunt Betsy and I promise to stop by for a visit soon.”
Ken and I had no pressing investigations at the time so after completing the day’s paperwork, I decided to find out what I could about the incidents at the Castle House. Once I told Ken about the castle house, he was intrigued and agreed to do some snooping of his own. Then I called Carl to see if he could share what the police had learned about this incident.
“So far no leads,” he said. “Detectives are interviewing the neighbors but no one seems to know these boys or where they came from.”
“Has anyone checked missing persons records?”
“Of course, Lydia. Why are you so interested in these boys?
“It's more curiosity than anything else. You know, I grew up just down the block from that house.”
“Okay but Lydia, I suggest you leave this case to the police.”
“Come on Carl. Maybe I can help.”
“If I think that you can help, I’ll let you know.”
Carl knew just as I knew that I would not leave this case to the police.
Two days later, I paid a visit to my great Aunt Betsy. Over a light lunch, she told me everything that she remembered about the castle house. “The last people that I remember living in the house was Mr. And Mrs. Waters. The Waters were an elderly couple who moved here from New York. They were here a couple of years before she died and their adult children moved Mr. Waters away. No one else has moved into the house. I have always wondered who owned the property. It was just left abandoned.”
“Were there many vagrants?”
“Yes. At least a couple times of year people have moved in only to be evicted by the housing authority and the police.”
“Thanks, Aunt Betsy. You’ve given me an idea of where to start this investigation.”
In the office later that day I began to look through public records. The last person who illegally occupied the castle house was a drug-addicted man named Phillip Rogers, known on the street as Lucky. He had an extensive criminal record and had been in and out of prison for the last ten years. However, Lucky could not have had anything to do with the deceased boys because he was currently serving a five-year sentence for armed robbery.
Ken spent some time researching the house. We were surprised to learn that the house was built in 1910 in the Victorian style for Daniel Scott, a wealthy medical equipment merchant. As the family grew, there were repeated add-ons to the structure. Years later, Daniel Scott was a victim of the 1929 stock market crash and his beautiful Victorian house was sold at a sheriff's sale.
The new owner, a man named Watson was murdered by his wife only days after moving into the castle house in 1935. “I think that this house truly is cursed,” Ken said. “The house stayed vacant for several years and then the Watson relatives wanted desperately to be free of the property. In 1943 the city bought the property and turned it into an orphanage. The orphanage was closed in 1969 due to an outbreak of tuberculosis. The city has boarded up the property several times but in addition to being a community eye-sore, it continues to be broken into by the homeless.”
“Wow,” I said. “That house has always been a little spooky to me but none of that helps us learn why those boys were in the house in the first place. I need to take a look around that house.”
“Lydia, the house is off-limits. Crime tape surrounds the entire perimeter.”
I laughed a little and winked at Ken. “I promise to be careful Ken.” He gave me a look that said he thought that I was incorrigible but he didn’t say anything.
I went to the castle house early the next morning. After slipping under the crime tape, I moved to the back of the house. It was fairly easy to pull away the plywood that covered the back door and slip inside. The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was dark and humid. The smell of rotting wood, mildew, and mold was nauseating. I knew that breathing in this house was extremely unhealthy. I took the scarf from my neck and wrapped it around my nose and mouth. With a large flashlight as my guide, I moved slowly into the house. The entire first floor was covered in debris, old musty clothes, curtains, and even baby toys. The wood creaked as I moved further into the house. It was a really big house; four bedrooms on the second floor and three bedrooms on the third floor. Above the third floor was the attic and the turret room. The bedrooms were all empty except for a few pieces of old furniture. The closets were empty as well. As I climbed the splintered steps to the attic, I got a strange tingling up my spine. I paused, listening to the scurry of mice through rotting wood. Someone was definitely living here.
Jugs of water lined the wall and there was a pan, likely used to wash up. A small table held soap, and a toothbrush. A close line was strung across the room where women’s and children’s clothes hung. There was a pallet on the floor. I found a trash bag where food platter boxes and juice containers were discarded. I briefly hoped that I would find something leading to the identification of whoever was living in the castle, but I didn’t find anything.
I moved on to the turret room. Immediately I knew that this was where the brothers were living. Under the window with other trash, I found a crumpled photograph of a black woman. This could be a lead, I thought. I couldn’t help wondering why the police had not searched this entire house more thoroughly.
At that moment, I heard movement on one of the lower floors. Then I heard voices. “What if the cops found it?” One man said.
“The cops wouldn’t find it, because they aren’t looking for it. Let’s just get it and get the hell out of here,” another said.
I heard the sound of wood being ripped up. “Got it, let’s go!”
More foot scurrying. I went to the window and peeped out. Two men, one white and one black ran from the house. They looked like working men, maybe construction workers. I wasn’t close enough to get a good look at their faces but I was able to take a photo of the truck that they were driving. With any luck, I would be able to blow up the photo and get the license plate number.
I let myself out of the house and headed for the office. All I wanted at this point was a cup of coffee and a few minutes of peace but Ken confronted me the moment I entered the office.
“You went to the castle house, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course I did and I think I may have at least a lead. I found a photo.”
“How is that a lead? You have no idea how long that photo has been in that house.”
“You might be right, but you could also be wrong. We will see.” I called Carl to tell him about the two men who had hidden something in the house and that I was there when they came to retrieve whatever it was. I gave him the plate number and he said that he would check it out.
Later that day, I stopped by my Aunt Betsy’s house. She was happy to see me as usual. I showed her the photo and asked if she recognized the woman in the photo. She stared at the photo for a moment and then shook her head. “Trying looking at the photo again with your glasses, Aunt Betsy.”
I watched as recognition slowly crept across her eyes. “Yes,” she said. This is a homeless woman, living in a shelter a few blocks away, I remember. I used to see her at the produce stand.”
“Do you know the name of the shelter?”
“Yeah. Greenway, I think. They have a garden and the residents plant vegetables and sell them.”
I gave her a big hug. “Thank you so much. You’ve been a big help.”
Moments later I was showing that photo to the attendants at the shelter. The first man I saw at the front desk did not recognize the photo and directed me to an office where they kept records. A stout woman in a flowered dress and slippers sat behind the desk. She was clearly upset that I had disturbed her work. She said no, almost as soon as I produced the photo. I took a deep breath, cooling my emotions. I was determined not to let her disrespect deter me from my mission. “I am sorry to disturb you, Miss,” I said as earnestly as I could. “But I am trying to find this woman and I would really appreciate your taking a look at this photo.”
She snatched the photo from my hand and looked at it. She knew the woman in the photo. I could tell from the expression on her face. “Yes,” she said slowly. “That’s Maddie. Madeline Mace was a resident here for a few months but she was discharged for breaking the rules.”
“Really? Was she here with children?”
“Yes. She had two sons.”
“What rules had she broken?
“Curfew, for one. She was an alcoholic and a drug addict which both are forbidden here but she kept getting caught with contraband so she got kicked out.”
“What happened to her children?
“Children and Youth was supposed to pick them up but Maddie took the boys and left before they got here.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“About two years ago, I think. I can’t be certain.”
“Thank you, Miss. You have been a big help.”
That evening Carl and I had dinner with two of his friends. For some reason, my boyfriend of two years was unusually cross with me. I thought it was a very pleasant spring evening but Carl kept giving me a disapproving look. I did not know what I had said or done that caused his unusual attitude. As the evening wore on, I became more anxious. I couldn’t wait until I had the opportunity to confront him about whatever was bothering him.
After we said goodbye to our companions and got into Carl’s car, I was ready to confront him, but to my surprise, he immediately came at me. “Lydia, what were you thinking, going into that house alone? You are not a cop and you don’t even have a case.”
“I know,” was all I could say.
“I understand your interest in the missing boys and the mystery surrounding the castle house but going there alone was foolish and dangerous.”
“You must have found out something about those men that I told you about.”
“Yes,” he said more calmly. “These are really bad men, Lydia. The license plate was a good lead. They are both prime suspects in a few robberies of several jewelry shops in center city. If these men had found you in that house, we might not be having this conversation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but they never saw me.”
“I know. Look, I can’t do my job if I’m always wondering what kind of trouble you may get into while investigating.”
We were both quiet as he drove home. Finally, I said, “I’m sorry Carl. I don’t mean to worry you but you knew who I was before we came together.” Silence for a couple of minutes. We didn’t speak again until we were in our apartment.
“You’re a cop Carl, a homicide detective, don’t you think that I worry about you? You find yourself in dangerous situations all of the time. Yes, I do worry. But that is just who you are and I knew that at the beginning of our relationship.” He pulled me into an embrace and we just held each other for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“ I’m sorry too.” I didn’t bother to tell him about what else I found in the castle house. I pretended to be exhausted and went to bed early.
The next morning, armed with a plausible story and a name, I continued my investigation. I searched the internet to see if Madeline Mace was a resident in any Pennsylvania homeless shelters or drug rehabilitation programs. Her name hit in an out-patient program outside of the city. When I called, I was told that she did not sign out of the program but has not shown up for the past month. With this information, I knew that it was time to check the Pennsylvania inmate locator.
Madeline Mace was arrested for prostitution and drug possession. She was being held in the County Jail for the last three months. I called Carl with this information. “Do you know what this means, Carl?”
“Yes.”
“It means that she was probably living in the castle house with her boys until she was arrested.”
“Yes. We learned that the boy's names were Ernest and Thomas Mace and the medical examiner determined that the younger of the two brothers, Thomas died from pneumonia. They were living in that house alone for nearly three months. The weather was still cold when their mother was arrested.”
“So these poor kids just fell through the cracks?”
“Yes, it seems so. Their mother could be charged with endangering them because she left them in an abandoned house.”
“Hum,” I said. “No foul play, just the sickness of drug addiction, This is a very sad story.”
The authorities had to notify Madeline Mace of the deaths of her two sons. She didn’t even remember where she had left them.
Later, Aunt Betsy and I started a petition to have the castle house demolished. With over 250 signatures on our petition presented to the city’s counsel, the castle house will soon be no more.
THE END
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