Mystery and Crime Fiction posted January 2, 2025 Chapters: Prologue -1- 2 


A mystery at the mansion
A chapter in the book Veil of Secrets

Veil of Secrets - Chap 1

by Begin Again



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Detective Matthew Donatelli leaned back in his chair, the squeak of worn springs filling the quiet office. His body still ached — a dull reminder of the weeks spent recovering after nearly losing his life. The doctors called him a miracle; he called it Miriam. Her quick thinking had pulled him back from the brink.

He ran a hand through his dark hair and exhaled, glancing around the familiar space. His desk was exactly how he'd left it — paperwork half-stacked, a spilled cup of pens, and the ever-present coffee mug. Except now, there was something new — a framed photo of Jenna holding their newborn daughter, Maggie. It still felt surreal. One day, he was a detective with amnesia trying to piece his life together, and the next, he had a family.

A soft knock startled him. "Donatelli, you in there?" a voice called, though he recognized it instantly. Before he could respond, the air seemed to shimmer, and Danni appeared, her presence as natural in his office as the buzzing of the overhead light. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafted toward him, and he inhaled, enjoying the spicy scent.

He eagerly accepted the cup from Danni. "Hmm — what have we here? Do I smell cinnamon?"

Danni laughed. "Well, your sniffer certainly wasn't damaged during your adventure."

"Adventure? Is that what you call it? I was almost dead."

"Your own fault. Going off half-cocked without knowing the full story."

"You might be right, but right now, I am interested in this treat you've brought me."

"Sure, change the subject. But it is a special coffee to welcome you back. I'm glad to see you sitting in that chair. It seemed so weird not having you here every day."

"Don't tell me my partner missed me. Can that be possible?"

"No, it can't!" Danni stammered as a rosy blush touched her cheeks. "I only meant I was accustomed to hearing you start the morning by blowing off steam about something, and it was strangely quiet without you. Eerie almost."

"Eerie?" Donatelli smirked. "You're a ghost, Danni. Aren't you supposed to like eerie?"

"Not this kind. Everything's off lately," Danni admitted, her tone softening. "Even Eleanor's been distracted. Not finding Doyle and Rossi has put everyone on edge, but it's almost like there is something else."

Matthew sipped the coffee, realizing how much he had missed these early chats, teasing or butting heads with her. "I understand, but I can't think without my caffeine fix. Are you going to tell me about this coffee or not?"

"Of course, if you'd ever close that trap of yours long enough to let me finish a sentence. It's a Moroccan coffee called Cafe Noir. It's infused with warm, sweet spices like cardamom, cinnamon, and nutmeg." Danni tilted her head, acting all sophisticated. "For those in the know, meaning people like me, it's an allonge, which for peons like you, means a large espresso."

"My, my, aren't we becoming the connoisseur of the coffee world." Matthew took another sip. "I hope you've got the recipe to whip up another one. They're great!" He leaned back in his chair and finished off the cup.

A tap on the door drew their attention to the doorway as Eleanor stepped inside, handing Donatelli another cup of the Moroccan coffee. Her gaze briefly met his before she drifted toward the window.

"How'd she —" The detective's mouth dropped open, and then he chuckled, "Never mind. I'll never figure the two of you out."

In typical Danni fashion, Danni jumped to her next train of thought. "Now that you're a father," she began without preamble, "don't you think it's time to marry Jenna?"

Donatelli's mind shot back to Christmas Eve. So much had changed because of that night. He groaned. "Slow down, Danni. I just got my memory back. I just found out I have a kid. Let me figure out how to be a dad before planning a wedding."

Danni smirked, leaning casually against his filing cabinet. "Excuses, excuses. You already love Jenna, and she loves you. You're a perfect match. What's the holdup?"

"For your information, I planned on asking her on Christmas Eve, but that didn't work out."

Danni rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. I'll drop it. For now." She turned her head slightly, acknowledging the second figure in the room. "Eleanor, what do you think? Shouldn't he make an honest woman out of your daughter?"

"So much for dropping it," Donatelli muttered.

Eleanor was lost in thought and didn't respond to their banter. Her expression was distant, her posture tense.

"Eleanor?" Danni pressed.

Eleanor's head tilted — her brow furrowed. "Sorry. Were you speaking to me?"

Donatelli answered first, "Unlike my partner here, you seem quiet today. You're not worried about me being back on the job, are you? Because I assure you, I'm ready."

Eleanor flashed a warm smile toward Donatelli. "I'm sure you are, Matthew."

"Well, if it's not our star detective that's worried you, what's going on? I sense some strong vibrations coming from you," Danni asked.

"I could've sworn I heard someone calling my name."

Donatelli exchanged a glance with Danni. "Are you sure? There's no one here but us."

"She doesn't mean from this room, pal. She gets a feeling when people reach out to her, like when she felt you'd been at the bar where you were beaten or when she felt your presence at the vineyard."

"Exactly," Eleanor said, her voice sharp with conviction. She stepped closer to the window, her gaze scanning the street outside, but whatever she'd heard was gone now.

Donatelli cleared his throat, drawing their attention back. "Danni, while you're here, why don't you fill me in on the cases I missed while I was — out of commission?" He gestured to the files stacked haphazardly on his desk.

Danni moved closer, giving the stack a pointed look. "You missed plenty, but here's the big one." She picked up a file with an elegant wave of her hand, turning it over to him.

Donatelli took it, flipping it open. His breath hitched as he stared at the details: a missing child, a boy no older than five, last seen playing in his front yard. The photograph clipped to the corner of the report struck him in a way it never had before. He thought of Maggie — small, fragile, innocent —and tightened his grip on the file. "What's the status on this?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

"Cold, unfortunately," Danni replied, her tone unusually somber. "No leads, no ransom, no trace. Just gone." He nodded, his eyes fixed on the boy's photo. The cases had always been personal, but now, as a father, they cut deeper.

Before he could ask another question, Eleanor gasped, her hands clutching the edge of his desk.

"Eleanor?" Donatelli asked, jumping out of his chair.

Her gaze was distant again, her voice trembling. "I heard it again — clearer this time."

"What did you hear?" Danni asked, concern flickering across her face.

"Miriam," Eleanor whispered, her expression turning urgent. She straightened, looking at Donatelli and Danni with wide eyes. "Miriam needs me." She vanished into thin air before either could stop her, leaving the office colder and quieter.

Donatelli stared at the empty space where she had been, his mind racing. "What the hell just happened?"

Danni folded her arms, her figure unusually still. "I don't know," she admitted. "But whatever it is, it's big."

Donatelli sat back down, the missing child file still open on his desk. His mind was now juggling two mysteries — the case in front of him and whatever had just drawn Eleanor away.

*****

Eleanor's transition from Donatelli's office to the abandoned mansion took mere minutes. Her translucent body shimmered beneath the pale sunlight filtering through the tall pines, but as she approached the mansion, a sharp chill settled in — a cold unlike anything she'd felt in years crept into her bones. It wasn't just colder — it was heavier — oppressive, like a force pressing down on her chest. Something was wrong. The shift in the air struck her like a warning.

"Miriam, it's Eleanor. Send me a sign if you can hear me," she called, her voice echoing faintly across the frostbitten garden.

The silence was unnatural — as if the land had frozen mid-breath. Eleanor's gaze scanned the mansion. The renovations had brought new life to its weathered stone, but now the house felt lifeless. A faint buzz ran along her spine — almost electric, too subtle to define. She closed her eyes, focusing on the faint, lingering energies of the house. Something told her Miriam was in trouble.

She slipped inside the house and instantly felt the change, too. Dust coated the railing of the grand staircase, dulling its former gleam. The air was stale, tinged with the faint odor of must. Something had happened here, and it wasn't good.

"Where are you, Miriam?" Eleanor whispered. Her voice trembled, but no answer came.

The wind picked up outside, rattling the windowpanes with an unnatural howl. As Eleanor looked toward the rose garden, her breath caught. Across the vineyard, she saw a fleeting figure — a man, his outline barely visible in the frost that spread in unnatural patterns, like webs. When she blinked, he was gone.

She moved into the kitchen, the cold tightening its grip on her. Her fingers brushed the counter when a shadow flickered near the back door. Eleanor froze, her chest tightening as though the house itself was warning her. Then, just as suddenly, the feeling vanished.

The sound of an approaching car broke the silence. Rebecca stepped out, her expression shifting from awe at the mansion's renovated beauty to worry. "Where's my grandmother?" she asked. "I don't smell her sugar cookies baking."

"Maybe inside," Eleanor replied, her voice steadier than she felt. Together, they entered the house, but its emptiness spoke volumes.
As they crossed the threshold, Rebecca's eyes darted from room to room, confusion growing. The house was eerily silent, and no welcoming warmth met them. "I don't understand," Rebecca said softly. "Miriam's always kept this place pristine. But now — it's like no one's been here for months."

Eleanor felt the odd emptiness of the mansion, too. She glanced around, her ghostly senses prickling. "I'll check upstairs,"

Rebecca nodded and moved toward the parlor. As she walked through the hallway, her foot brushed against something on the floor. Looking down, she saw a letter, half hidden beneath a fallen book. She picked it up, staring at the ornate handwriting on the front.

Eleanor joined her, noticing the letter. "What is it?"

Rebecca shrugged. "Probably one of the letters Danni brought to the hospital. She was always dropping them." She tossed the letter onto a nearby table, oblivious to the significance. But Eleanor's gaze lingered on the paper, unease prickling her senses.
 
"It's not like her," Rebecca said, her voice tinged with concern. "Where could she have gone?"

"I don't know, but I agree she wouldn't have left without telling you she was leaving." Eleanor moved toward the door. "Let's check the cottage."

Outside in the overgrown garden, Eleanor searched for any trace of Miriam. Once vibrant and orderly, the garden now lay in tangled disarray, its flowers crushed and vines twisted unnaturally.

Her instincts told her to search more thoroughly, to trust the gnawing sensation that something was wrong, but as she took a step forward, something caught her eye — a glint in the tangled garden.

She knelt, brushing aside the leaves and vines, and found a tin box with an old, weathered key inside. Eleanor's breath caught in her throat. She didn't need to look closely to see the faint markings on the handle — this was no ordinary key. It was the one she had once seen in Miriam's hand — one Miriam had tried to hide.

Rebecca approached, her voice trembling. "What is it?"

"A key," Eleanor said softly, her grip tightening. "It belongs to your grandmother."

"What's it for? I've never seen it."

"I can't answer that, but I sense it is important to Miriam."

Eleanor rose to her feet, the key clutched tightly in her hand. She glanced at Rebecca, staring at the cottage with fear and confusion.

From the cottage came a faint creak. The door had swung open on its own.

Without a word, Eleanor started walking toward the door, her steps slow and deliberate.

The air grew colder as they approached the entrance, and the sound of something or someone moving inside echoed faintly.

The cottage smelled of dust and decay. Suddenly, the scent of lavender drifted in the air, and a voice whispered from the far corner of the room —  Miriam's voice warped and echoing.
 
"Miriam?" Eleanor called, her own voice shaking.

The whisper came again, calling Eleanor's name, and then, there was only silence.

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Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam - a spirit from days gone by
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
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