All were shuttered and dark. Final approach was via a long gravel drive shooting from a cul-de-sac much too large for any purpose I could imagine for such a remote locale.Addams Family on crack. That’s what flashed through my mind as I parked.Martha Gulley’s home was a rambling two-story frame behemoth that hadn’t seen paint since the Babe signed with the Red Sox. Complete with dormers, weather vane–topped tower, wraparound porch, and greenhouse, the place looked like the bastard offspring of a Gothic-Victorian tryst.I was taking in detail when Ramsey pulled up. I got out and waited for him to join me.“Did you know about this beauty?”“I’ve been by here, but never had cause to enter.” Ramsey was surveying the property, one hand shading his eyes. “Rumor has it that old Oscar was hoping to create an East Coast version of the Sarah Winchester house. Died ten years into the project.” “Is that the mansion in San Jose?”“It is. Back in the day, Sarah lost her child then her husband, spent the rest of her life adding on to an old farmhouse.
