The Broken Clock is Right Thrice: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #4

Chapter 19 - Never Met A Ghost I Didn't Like

"No, I'm not ashamed to be accused of being a con. Cons run the world. The ones who make enough money go to government offices and corporate boardrooms. Everyone else goes to prison."

~ Zandra, interview, Stevens Point Journal newspaper

The Carey estate is less one piece of property than it is five or six jagged slices locked in battle like antlers on rutting whitetail bucks. Gene Carey, now deceased, was known as much for cycling through wives as for his financial success. Those wives each left their mark on the themes of the sprawling 500-acre estate, coalescing for a battle of the tackiest inside the walls of Carey Manor.

The Byzantine gate at the driveway entrance, meant to pay tribute to the walls of ancient Constantinople, opens for the white SUV. The modern vehicle looks out of place against the stone archway. The 20-foot tall hedge trimmed to look like the faces on Mount Rushmore that greets Zandra and Sunglasses beyond the gate push the aesthetic timeline closer to the present.

It's been some time since Zandra visited Carey Manor, yet she's still familiar with it. A fountain featuring a circle of gargoyle statues urinating onto a distressed cow made of brass catches Sunglasses off guard, but Zandra yawns.

"Carey Manor" ought to have been the rename of the prison they should've sent Gene Carey to, but that never happened. They don't send people with Gene Carey's money and influence to prisons, despite their crimes. He got to die an accidental death in the comfort of his own home.

Of course, some would say his death wasn't accidental at all. Rather untimely, in fact.

Zandra runs her hand along the sleeve of her purple gown, feeling the outline of the lawnmower knife's sheath.

Those who know, know.

"The photos on the internet don't do this place justice," Sunglasses says. "Is that what I think it is over there?"

"Yes, it is. Those are 200 terracotta Civil War soldiers in formation. Carey wife number three commissioned them either as an ode to the first emperor of China's terracotta warriors or to hide money as part of some tax loophole. I'll let you guess," Zandra says.

"You're pretty familiar with this property."

"Quite."

"Good. I feel like I could get lost just going up the driveway," Sunglasses says.

"Wait until you see the house."

The 52-room house, with matching reflecting pools, looks like something out of a 19th Century music video. The style could be called gothic revival were it not for the helipad, solar panels, and pink flamingos.

"This isn't a house. It's a castle," Sunglasses says. "You think they'll really find a buyer when this place goes up for sale?"

"Of course. There's always someone out there with more money than sense."

"Incredible. It feels like we're driving into a movie."

"Don't trip over your dick falling in love just yet. Every castle has a dungeon," Zandra says and hacks into her sleeve.

"So you've been in here before."

"I've been lots of places."

"Then maybe you can give me a tour," Sunglasses says.