Saltar's Point Read Free Page B

hallways that seemed to meld into one another without much rhyme or reason to their madness, creating an architectural theater of the absurd and reflecting Talcott’s penchant for the flamboyant. Just a few months after its completion Talcott fell ill with pneumonia and died, leaving a mountain of unpaid debt and dozens of angry contractors. The house was put up for auction and sold to an anonymous bidder for a fraction of the construction costs.
    Over the years the house had changed hands several times. In the early ‘50s a young entrepreneur named James Hirsch purchased the mansion and converted it into a bed and breakfast, but in 1957 a fire broke out causing considerable damage to the top two floors. Six people perished in the fire, among them a family with two small children. The cause of the fire was determined to be an accident when one of the guests admitted to falling asleep while smoking a cigarette. Rumors about the source of the fire spread faster than the fire itself, many of the locals contending that Hirsch -a well known gambler- deliberately started the blaze in an effort to make good on his insurance policy. An investigation followed and although Hirsch had run up a considerable debt among local bookies, no charges were filed when it was noted that Hirsch had let his policy lapse and had not collected a single penny. Hirsch filed for bankruptcy and fled the state, abandoning the Talcott mansion altogether.
    It was scheduled for demolition but then in 1959 the Washington State Historical Preservation Society purchased the estate and rebuilt the top floors in exact accordance with the original blueprints. It then served as a historical museum for three years before budget cuts forced the Talcott mansion once again to be put up for sale.
    Rupert Porter along with his wife Katrina purchased the house in 1969 spending their life savings and leveraging themselves to the hilt in debt. Now with Porter’s passing, the Talcott mansion sat patiently awaiting its next proprietor. With three full stories and a basement, it spanned just over 15,000 square feet and was much more house than any of the residents of Saltar’s Point needed. Those who did express interest couldn’t get past the macabre feelings the one-time funeral home generated at the base of their spines, and so it had sat empty and abandoned, collecting dust on the hardwood and cobwebs in the rafters.
    The manor’s sordid history drew Darrow to it like a moth to flame. He wanted a place with a presence, an air of history to brood about in. And yes, a place to hide from the prying eyes of society. The fact that so many people had spent their last days above ground in the basement of the mansion didn’t seem to bother Jack Darrow one bit. In fact he relished it. Abby’s parents had left her a sizeable inheritance and Jack Darrow was intent on spending every last penny of it. 
     
    Jack and Randall stood in the entryway beneath the high vaulted ceilings just across from the grand staircase that led to the bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs. An old Otis Elevator prototype sat just to the left of the stairs and adjacent to a cozy reading room tucked away in its own little nook in the southwest corner of the house. Affixed to the front of the elevator was a tarnished brass gate that folded in on itself when opened and creaked in squeaky protest whenever pulled shut. The elevator traveled only from the main floor to the basement. A steel lever jutted out from the elevator floor, when pulled it kick-started the electric motor causing the lights to dim briefly before the gears lowered the single wire cable an inch at a time. There were no stairs leading to the basement, another one of Talcott’s eccentric visions. In reality the house was the stuff of nightmares, a horror movie come to life, but Jack Darrow had big dreams for the house at 1529 Baker St., big dreams indeed.
    “Looks like this place was run over by a dump truck.” Darrow spoke from the side of