I soon got lost.
I backtracked down a hallway or two, rounded a corner, passed an actual conservatory with its domed, glass ceiling, and found myself in the library.
No, I didn't see Professor Plum or Colonel Mustard. Definitely, I didn't see a candlestick, whatever that was. I did see, however, an older gentleman reading a book and drinking from a highball glass.
The amber liquid in the glass wasn't, I suspected, lemonade.
Cal Thurman, George Thurman's brother, looked up from the latest James Patterson novel, this one called Death, Sweet Death, and smiled broadly when he saw me.
"Allison, right?"
"Close," I said. "Allison's my friend.
I'm Samantha."
He chuckled. "Hey, at my age, anything close is a good sign. The other day I called my wife Rick."
"Who's Rick?"
"No clue. Have a seat."
I grinned and sat in the chair next to him. He asked if I wanted a drink, indicating a bar nearby. I mentioned that this was the first library I'd seen with a full service bar. He laughed and said he would drink to that, and did. Then he poured himself another and sat back down next to me. I noted the time: 11:45. Not even noon.
"So, what can I do you for?" he asked, and, with one gulp, nearly finished his fresh glass of the hard stuff.
"You suggested that I see you about some, ah, strange occurrences that have been happening on the island. I'm interested in hearing more about the curse."
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"Was I drunk?"
"You were drinking, yes."
He laughed. "That might explain it.
Sure, yes. There's rumors this island is cursed. Dates all the way back to when, hell, I don't know, probably back to the Native Americans. Even before the white man came, the Native Americans were at war over this island. From what we gather, there was a lot of bloodshed here.
Not to mention a shipwreck or two."
I'd read about the island having some history, and that it had been the location of a few tribal skirmishes, but I wasn't aware of a lot of bloodshed. I asked him to explain further.
"We've found two burial sites on the north side of the island. We're on the south side. And not just burial sites, but battle sites, too. Skulls cleaved nearly in half, severed arms and legs, and gashes to necks and ribs. Dozens and dozens of such bodies."
"Found where?" I asked.
"Mostly in the ground, but some were in a tunnel system that appears to run underneath the island. Edwin has taken an interest in the tunnels, and so has Tara, for that matter."
He eyed me earnestly. Granted, his eyes were bloodshot, but he was imploring me, I think, to read deeper into his words.
He continued, "Back in the day, my father was going to build on the north end, along the peninsula, where he would have panoramic views of the Sound and the city of Victoria. Instead, he built here, in the woods, which was really the only other viable spot."
"What made him change course?"
"The hauntings. The workers getting spooked. And, of course, the deaths.
Which, of course, leads us back to the curse."