How could I not trust him?
“Donald drew up the contract,” he said. “I had my lawyer go over it. The names of the partners were in there, but they didn’t mean anything to me at the time. It was a good, private deal. The space was owned by the city and Donald explained to me about the business grants that covered it.” He rubbed my shoulders. “There was nothing even remotely illegal about it. The partners could operate the business or shut it down after a year if I optioned out of the contract.” His voice deepened. “I had nothing to lose. I was ready for a change of pace, even if it was just a year.” His hands wandered down my arms and across my back. I watched his lips come closer. “And there was you.”
So, I’m weak. Naïve and weak. The man feeds me coffee and chocolate and kisses me senseless. He also loves cats and children. “Um, Adam?”
“Yes?”
“I volunteered to keep Yolanda’s granddaughter tonight. I’d better get back.”
“Do you want some company?”
Perfect answer. “Yes, please.”
~*~
I was amazed at how tolerant Memnet acted with our little visitor that evening. My pet was extraordinarily attentive to Jenny, whom he’d been wary of at their first meeting. She followed him everywhere, and even watched, fascinated, while he used the litter box. They played a sort of jumping contest and also a chase game, which Mem won. He even tugged on a yarn ball for her.
Adam had been Jenny’s second favorite play thing and I think it did him good. He’d been patient and lenient to the little girl’s demands to both romp and read, but never let her get out of control with all the attention she received.
When he was ready to leave we had to pry Jenny out of his arms. She made a huge show of not wanting to let him go, then performed a touching gesture. She leaned forward and put her lips against the scar on his neck.
I walked him out to his truck. “I didn’t think about how you might feel until I watched you with Jenny. Was it hard for you?”
He shook his head, a faintly wistful smile flashing across his face. “No.” He turned his profile to me before I heard him say, “Did you ever think about having children?”
I wasn’t having a conversation like this to his back, so I waited until he faced me, looking as if he wished I hadn’t heard. “Yes.”
We stared into each other’s eyes. I wasn’t sure who blinked first, but it was a good time to change the subject. We talked briefly about alternative plans after the students left and we would each be alone again. He had decided to check into the recently finished convention center hotel, aptly called The Prairie Center, out near the highway for a few nights. Since Elvis came to stay with us to provide another number for our safety, not even Adam wanted to be alone in his downtown apartment.
With the rumor mill spewing, I didn’t think it mattered much if Adam stayed at my house unchaperoned, but he didn’t like the idea.
“It doesn’t matter really, what they think of us, except that we know what’s right and what’s wrong, and we can’t afford to alienate future business,” he reasonably pointed out. “Besides,” he said with a wolfish grin, “I don’t trust you to keep your hands off me.”
A few minutes later I walked back into my house, fingers on my kiss-swollen lips and arms achingly empty. He had just cause not to trust me.
~*~
Friday was already monumental for being the last day the Maplewood students would be with us. Any more excitement and I would change my name to Alice. As in Wonderland.
At 10:15 in the morning, Marion got through to me on my personal line.
“Ivy! You’re not gonna believe this!” Marion said in her breathless excited manner. “I’m on my break, so I just have a couple of minutes. You know how Rupert Murphy’s been the acting mayor, right? And acting like a king idiot, I might add?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled, chasing a quarter that rolled close to the refrigerator. I had upended the contents of my purse on the kitchen table to do a periodic cleaning and didn’t want to lose anything.
“Guess who showed up on the throne this morning! Guess!” she commanded.
“Um, I don’t know, Marion. King Arthur with Excalibur in his hand?”
“Huh? No. Come on, Ivy!”
“Marion, I’m not good with guessing games. Just tell me.”
“Margaret Bader-Conklin, big as life. And the VP of MerriFoods in her train. They’re in a meeting right now. Kicked Murphy out of the mayor’s office. He threatened to sue. Oh-oh.”
“What? What?” I wished I was with her now.
“Hackman’s just showed up, trailing Ripple and Larken, and I believe—yes, your Elvis.”
“What can the cops do?”
“Gotta go! I’ll call you later.”
“Marion! Wait!” The line went to the buzz of a hang-up. Now that was news. And I was too far away to do anything about it. I called Yolanda’s number to make sure she’d heard, but all I got was a busy signal. I tried Mea Cuppa: same thing.
I didn’t dare try to interrupt Lucy or Sonja on her cell. Hmmm…what to do. I realized that I had an urge for a cup of Adam’s coffee. The shop was probably the closest I would be able to get to city hall. The street parking spaces were full, so I drove behind the bookstore and parked next to Adam’s truck and went in the back way.
Unlike the previous few days, several customers wandered the store. Most of them stood in the front window where, I discovered, they had a good view of Yolanda interviewing Rupert Murphy who stood on the sidewalk across the street, a disgruntled and impatient television news crew from Springfield hovering nearby.
“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Adam said, as I approached the counter. He was idle for the moment.
“Tell me everything you know,” I demanded.
“I think I’ve forgotten more than I remember over the course of my long life,” he teased. “How about just what’s going on this morning?” He set a six-ounce size paper cup with Mea Cuppa lettered on the side in front of me, full of coffee. “I ordered them for the official grand opening. So, we’re just starting the celebration a little early.”
I stirred the contents impatiently.
Adam’s eyes crinkled. “OK, OK.” He laughed. “It all started an hour and a half ago when Bob stuck his head in the door. Hope Julius, the city hall receptionist, was here picking up a special order, and that’s all it took. Marion had just called him about Margaret’s impromptu appearance and you should have seen the look on Hope’s face. She lit outta here.” Adam chuckled again. “Anyway, Bob told me that Rupert blew a gasket when Margaret told him he was no longer needed. He called the police. We both tried to get in touch with you, but your lines were busy. More junk mail?”
I shook my head. “No. Legitimate business. A few loose ends and some research,” I told him. “Marion just got through. What do you suppose the police can do?”
“The missing persons report was filed, remember? If a missing person shows up, the least they can do is ask a lot of questions.”
Rupert Murphy strode up and down in front of the drug store, waving his arms, yelling.
“He’ll have a stroke if he keeps up like that,” I said.
“And he’s got high blood pressure now,” someone murmured near my left ear. I turned.
Roberta from the flower shop smiled. “He’s my second cousin,” she whispered.
I swallowed back the laugh I felt coming on. “Oh. He must be pretty upset.”
“That’s not the half of it. He was all ready to announce a new emergency election for mayor. He had his acceptance speech nearly finished. His wife, Lannah, is my bridge partner.”
“I see. So, what do you think will happen now that Margaret’s back?”
“That one’ll hijack the mayor’s office, mark my words.” Roberta’s plump little cheeks wiggled when she puckered her mouth. She shook her strangely-highlighted chestnut pouf of hair for emphasis and moved off to join her cronies at the window.
“Does this mean
we’re off the hook for the takeover plot?” Adam stage-whispered in my other ear. I barely got a napkin to my mouth in time as I choked on the sip of coffee I had taken.
Adam thumped me between my shoulder blades. “Sorry.”
Yolanda let the television people have their turn with Rupert. She came across to interview bystanders. “How do you feel about Mrs. Conklin’s sudden return?” she asked everyone.
Elvis appeared beside me. “Hi. I sneaked in the back. The girls are meeting me here.” He surveyed the chaotic scene as the crowd continued to grow along the street. “You should see the scene at city hall. Man, I hate to leave, just when things are getting exciting.”
I would be sorry to see them leave, too. “Maybe you could hang around an extra day,” I said, even though he and Lucy had weekend family obligations lined up.
Hanley refused to make himself available for the students to interview, claiming to be too busy whenever they called. Lucy reported that she agreed with me about Marion Green. Marion seemed too nice to hold a grudge and didn’t seem to have any beef with her former boss, the late mayor. Sure, she knew about the money. She typed up the forms, happy to help Apple Grove prosper so her kids would have a reason to stay.
In Lucy’s opinion, Murphy acted either too clever or hid the cleverness too well behind an exterior of bumbling good-hearted passion—such as he was displaying outside right now. He was still on our suspect list, but no longer high priority.
Dr. Bailey canceled Memnet’s appointment due to an emergency, so Sonja couldn’t get her interview or the current stray cat inventory.
I rescheduled for next week. I would talk to her myself then let the others know what she said.
Elvis folded his arms. “I heard Mrs. Conklin say she was upset that Mr. Murphy took it upon himself to schedule a tasteless little service while she was absent. She’s planning a big memorial later. And she’s stepping into the mayor’s office as her constitutional right.”
“Where did she come up with that idea,” I sputtered. “Anyway, did you hear her say where she’d been? Why couldn’t she get in touch with her assistant or her family? Something is really wrong.”
Adam went behind the counter to serve customers.
Elvis grabbed one of the few remaining squares of Featherlight Confections chocolate fudge candy samples. “Hey! This is pretty good. I wonder where he gets ’em?”
“Salesman. You’d have to ask Adam if they retail anywhere else. Oh, hi, Lucy, Sonja. Some excitement.”
The girls entered. “We stopped at your place and packed up our bags,” Sonja said. “Here’s your spare key.” She handed me the little cat keychain which I had given her last Sunday.
“Thank you. I’ll miss all of you. It’s been a pleasure. You’ve been great houseguests,” I told them. “Can I take you out for lunch before you leave?”
Sonja said no, quickly echoed by the others. “I wish we could have figured out what happened to Tut.” She glanced around. “Among other things. We realized there wasn’t much chance with so little time on the case, but maybe now with Mr. Conklin’s wife here, the truth will come out.”
“Before we came inside we heard the woman say she didn’t know anything about her husband’s murderer,” Lucy said. “But I get the feeling she does. Oh, and by the way, I have one more tidbit of information for all of you.” She waved us to the back hallway of the bookstore, behind the restrooms. “Here. I think this must be—aha! Do we have time for a little more mystery?”
Elvis’s brow wrinkled. “What?”
“See?” Lucy opened a door to what I assumed was a closet. I could see steps leading to a lower level. Cool air billowed up at us. “Did you know about this?”
Sonja tapped her foot. “It’s just a basement, Lucy.” I think she was impatient to get on the road to Chicago.
“Not ‘just’,” Lucy said. “If you’d been paying attention to Mrs. Green at the historical society—that’s Bob next door’s mother, remember—instead of her charming, single granddaughter, Amy, who operates the wedding venue, you’d have heard her tell me that there was a central access point to the tunnels below the city. She showed me pictures of the digging and some old-fashioned people kind of stooped down when I took her newspapers back. The ladies wore long skirts and the men straw hats, like around 1900 or something. There were three entrances. One at either end of the street, and this one in the middle. It runs all along the river.”
Call me Alice.
13
That got Elvis’ attention. “Tunnels? No way! Let’s see!”
“Mrs. Green said the tunnels are blocked up,” Lucy replied.
Sonja stopped her impatient foot-tapping. “What were they for?”
I glanced back at Adam, who eyed us from his place behind the counter. I jerked my head toward the stairs.
He nodded permission for us to go down, his expression puzzled.
I grabbed a flashlight from the shelves of supplies in the janitor closet nearby then led the way down, while Lucy answered Sonja’s question.
“I assumed Mrs. Green would tell me they were some early sewer system, but apparently, when news of World War I spread panic, several communities dug underground storage and hideout places, or tunnels, as they did here in Apple Grove. Sometimes it was just a series of shelters with doors, like humungous storm cellars. I guess what type of storage space depended on how much manpower and resources the city had.”
We creaked our way down the painted wooden staircase. The walls were thickly coated with cement. Here and there fieldstone poked through.
I trained the flashlight along an ancient boiler. A cistern took up one side of the room, and we could see a boarded-up spot street side, which I assumed was the former coal chute. Three wooden doors hung crazily from rusty hinges along an otherwise empty wall. My nose twitched with the musty smell, but I expected that. The floor had been swept. Newly built spider webs drifted along the rafters supporting the staircase but, other than that, the space was surprisingly clear of rubble.
“People could hide food and other kinds of supplies, and of course, themselves, in case of an attack.”
I could hear Lucy’s voice drifting as we wandered around the large room. I was fascinated by the vaulted brick ceiling. I swung the flashlight across it. “Look at the craftsmanship.” I oohed.
The others were standing in front of the three doors, waiting for me.
“Oops, sorry. I bet you wonder what’s behind those doors.”
Ever-practical Sonja said, “Probably not much.”
I held the light on one of the latches and she pushed against it gingerly. The little door creaked and gained momentum as it slammed inward with a cloud of dust. I handed her the light, which illuminated shafts of floating particles.
She peered through the entrance, bending at the waist to thrust her head and shoulders forward. “Right. Not much!” She withdrew. “Just a small empty room. No other entrance or exit,” she reported.
Lucy was next. She took the light from Sonja and poked at the latch of the middle door. Lucy pushed at the door and stumbled on the threshold, which had an unexpected dip. “This must be it!” she exclaimed.
I hugged myself in excitement.
“There’s a trapdoor here, into the wall. I think. Elvis—”
“Coming!” He plunged into the second room. Sonja and I moved closer to each other as we were left in relative darkness.
Lucy’s and Elvis’s voices echoed. “This has to be it! It’s shut.”
Sonja shivered and rubbed her upper arms. “Can we come in?”
“Nah. It’s too small,” Elvis replied.
Sonja didn’t give up. “Well, at least tell us what you see.”
“It’s like a doggy door,” Lucy called out. “It’s closed tight. Nailed. I think. Wait! Elvis—”
We heard a long screech and groan of metal, followed by a sharp crack and human cry.
Thump!
“I can’t stand it!” Sonja pushed her way through the
entrance. “Are you all right? Here, let me help you up. It’s all right, Ivy. Elvis just pried open the door. And it looks as if it was latched from the inside, not nailed shut. Wait! Elvis, you can’t—hey!”
Adam’s voice came from the stairwell. “Is everything all right down there?”
I stepped back to look up at where he stood at the head of the steps, holding a lantern aloft. “I don’t know. Lucy told us some story about an old tunnel system. I think they found the entrance.”
He came down. “Colleen just got here. She’s manning the counter. What’s going on? Where’s the tunnel? I’ve never seen one.” He held the lantern near the open doorway. “I looked in here when I first moved. The rooms were empty. In fact,” he indicated the third doorway, “this door doesn’t lead to a room at all. It’s just a set of shelves.” He rounded on me. “The kids went in there?”
Elvis came out of the room, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the light.
Adam lowered the lantern. “Sorry.”
Lucy and Sonja followed, dusting their hands and elbows. Sonja brushed at her hair.
“So?” I said.
Elvis shrugged. “I crawled in about ten yards. There were some rocks and other junk blocking the way, so I came out.”
“I tried to tell you,” Lucy said impatiently. “The tunnels were blocked up. Sometime, like in the 1950s or something, a little kid got hurt. There used to be all kinds of parties, and of course, rats, and you name it. So even before the Cold War really got underway, the entrances were blocked so no one could just go in and hang out.”
“But not permanently? People still know about them. What if a nuke went off or something?” Elvis, the practical modern theoreticist.
I shuddered.
Meow Mayhem Page 15
