by Sarah Fox
“Shh.”
The sound came from right next to my ear, Grayson’s breath tickling my skin. He looped an arm around my waist and held me close. I was so distracted by the warmth of his body tucked up against mine that I nearly missed what had alarmed him.
Slow footfalls sounded out in the corridor, getting closer. Whoever was out there was wearing high heels. Gemma Honeywell?
I held my breath as the footsteps approached the door and then paused. Grayson’s arm tightened around my waist, ever so slightly. I could feel that his muscles were taut and coiled, ready for whatever might happen next.
I was starting to feel lightheaded from holding my breath. Or maybe it was from Grayson’s proximity. A combination of the two, possibly.
A second later, the footsteps started up again, disappearing back the way they’d come.
I let the air rush out of my lungs as Grayson relaxed behind me.
“Probably just someone looking for the washroom,” I whispered.
They would have found it if they’d kept going down the hall.
I was about to take a step forward, hoping I’d be able to find the desk lamp in the darkness, when Grayson gave me a gentle squeeze and whispered in my ear.
“You look incredible.”
His words sent a pleasant shiver through me.
“You can’t see me in the dark.” The words popped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think.
He laughed quietly. “I got a good look before I shut off the light.”
Of course he did. Sometimes I said the dumbest things.
Taking one of his hands in mine, I stepped forward, my free hand out in front of me. When my fingers touched the lamp, I switched it on.
“You look very handsome,” I said, wishing I’d said that in the first place.
He stepped closer to me, his eyes on mine, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me right there in the office where we weren’t supposed to be, at risk of someone discovering us at any moment. Then I heard a quiet clink and he held up a paperclip.
“I’m always happy to help,” he said.
He squeezed my hand before letting it go. By the time I’d followed him around the desk, he already had the drawer unlocked. I’d hoped to pick up some tips by watching him work, but I wasn’t going to complain. Maybe I’d ask him to teach me the art of lock picking another time.
He slid open the drawer and my eyes widened. I snatched up the roll of papers that sat on top of a closed laptop.
“More blueprints!” I spread them out on top of the desk as Grayson pushed the drawer shut. “These have got to be what the Honeywells were talking about.”
Like the blueprints I’d found next to Jan, these ones had yellowed with age. I was sure it was a different set, and not just because the police had taken custody of the other one. The page showing the layout of the main floor of the manor wasn’t torn at the top, like the one from the other set.
“What do you mean by more?” Grayson asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with me as we stared down at the drawings.
I remembered he was out of the loop. I quickly brought him up to speed.
“People really believe the story about the hidden treasure?” he said when I’d finished. “That’s what this is all about?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think it could be what’s motivated the killer. I bet Jan stumbled upon the other set of blueprints when she was working down in the basement. I overheard Brad say that’s where he found these ones.”
I zeroed in on one part of the drawing, noticing something for the first time.
“But I think this set must be a later one,” I added.
I shoved aside the top sheets to look at the layout of the manor’s third floor.
My pulse beat loudly in my ears as a heavy weight of understanding settled in the middle of my chest.
“Oh no,” I whispered.
“What is it?” Grayson asked.
With shaking hands, I switched between papers again, double checking to make sure I wasn’t mistaken.
“Sadie?”
No mistake.
I stepped back from the desk, wishing I’d been wrong.
I met Grayson’s worried gaze. “I know who killed Marcie.”
Chapter 31
We decided to test my theory before contacting the police, in case the blueprints weren’t accurate. We returned the papers to the drawer before hurrying out of the office, hoping no one would ever know we’d been in there. I worried that Grayson would have to pick another lock, which could cause us difficulty down the line when explaining everything to the authorities. Luck was with us, however. It probably wasn’t the smartest practice, but the Honeywells had left the linen closet unlocked.
“Closet” probably wasn’t the best descriptor. It was more of a spacious storage room, with shelves lining two of the walls. Everything from tablecloths to pillowcases were stacked on the shelves. I wasn’t interested in the thread count of Shady Creek Manor’s sheets, though. All I wanted to know was whether the room had a secret door through which Connie could have accessed the third-floor guest room where Marcie had been pushed out the window.
I figured if anyone had used a secret door in the storage room to commit the murder, it had to be Connie. She’d admitted to working in there on the day of Marcie’s death, and Gemma had been out in the hall when not with Connie. Surely that meant Gemma would have noticed anyone entering the room the usual way, and if Gemma had tried to use the secret door, Connie would have seen her. It would have taken guts for Connie to sneak away when there was a chance Gemma could have looked in to check on her, but she must have decided it was worth the risk.
Grayson and I started our investigation at the back wall. Aside from the wall dividing the closet from the corridor, the one at the back of the room was the only one without shelves. It made sense that the secret door would be located there, if it existed at all.
I tapped at various spots on the wall. When I knocked for the fifth time, having moved to the right each time, the sound changed, becoming hollow.
We exchanged a glance, knowing we were getting close.
Grayson ran his hands over the white paneling while I pressed my palm against the wall at various points. Grayson then did the same.
The second time he pressed against the wall, there was a quiet click and several panels drew back into a recess before sliding to the left.
For a second all I could do was stare at the newly revealed opening.
“She really did do it,” I said quietly. “Connie killed Marcie.”
“Let’s make sure this really does lead to the third floor.” Grayson’s grim expression told me he fully expected it would.
He ducked through the four-foot-high opening and I followed closely behind him. The hidden room was more of a cubbyhole, really, one that gave access to a narrow stairway. There was a light switch next to the hidden door, but when I flicked it, nothing happened.
Most likely the lightbulbs had burnt out years ago. Grayson produced his cell phone and activated a flashlight app. I was glad he had his phone on him. I’d checked mine with my wrap earlier so I wouldn’t have to carry it around all evening. At the time, I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be creeping through hidden passageways.
By agreement, we left the secret door open. The thought of closing it without knowing for sure that we’d be able to open it again freaked me out more than I was willing to admit.
“Careful,” Grayson cautioned as he started up the narrow wooden staircase.
I gathered up the skirt of my dress in one hand, not wanting to trip on it or have it catch on the rough, unfinished wall. I used my free hand to steady myself against the wall now and then, my fingers quickly getting covered in dust and grime.
The air inside the passageway was stuffy and I couldn’t see much. Most of the light emitted by Grayson’s phone was blocked by his body. I was tempted to grab onto the back of his suit jacket, more to reassure myself that I wasn’t alone than to ke
ep myself steady, but I resisted and continued to rely on the wall instead.
We moved slowly and I took care not to trip or stumble in my high heels. After what felt like an hour, although it was probably mere minutes, I tried to peer around Grayson, but saw nothing other than dusty stairs disappearing into the darkness above us.
“It feels like it’s going on forever,” I whispered.
There probably wasn’t much chance of anyone hearing us, but somehow it felt right to keep my voice low.
“We should be past the second floor by now.” Grayson spoke quietly too.
According to the blueprints we’d found, the stairway could be accessed through a hidden door in the second floor corridor, but with so little light to see by, it didn’t surprise me that we’d missed the other door on our way up the stairs.
I figured Marcie must have used the second floor entrance on the day she died. She probably knew about the treasure and the existence of the manor’s secret passageways from her research into Edwin Vallencourt, but I wondered how she’d found the secret door without the aid of blueprints. Luck, perhaps, or maybe a previous owner of the manor had shared the information somewhere online.
I pushed those thoughts aside as we continued our slow trek upward. My nose twitched, tickled by the dust we stirred up with our steps.
“Here we go,” Grayson said after another minute or so.
He stopped and shone the light from his phone down my way so I could see the last two steps that led up to the landing where he waited for me. There wasn’t much room on the small landing, but the thought of tumbling down the narrow, dark stairs sent an unpleasant shiver of fear along the back of my neck, so I squeezed in close to Grayson. As I did so, I heard a click. With a squeak and a groan, another small door opened.
Grayson climbed through the opening before reaching back and offering me his hand. I took it, my skirt still gathered up in my other hand, and ducked through the door, hopefully not too awkwardly.
Grayson shone the light from his phone around us. We were standing in one of the hotel’s guest rooms. From the perfectly made bed and the lack of any luggage, I guessed that the room was unoccupied. It looked like the vacant one I’d seen on the day of Marcie’s death, but all the third-floor rooms could have looked similar, for all I knew. The curtains were intact, but the Honeywells could have replaced them since Marcie’s death.
Still holding Grayson’s hand, I led the way to the full-sized door, opening it quietly and slipping out into the hallway. I counted the number of doors between the guest room and the main stairway. I had to make an effort not to tremble when I finished.
We’d confirmed my theory.
The secret stairway led directly to the room where Marcie had faced her killer.
Chapter 32
We searched for Officer Eldon Howes in the ballroom, out on the patio, and in the dining room, but there was no sign of him. It didn’t escape my notice that Shontelle was also missing. When I asked Aunt Gilda if she knew where my friend was, she said the last time she’d seen Shontelle, she was dancing with Howes, for at least the second time that evening. I tucked that information away for future consideration. When I’d met Shontelle, she’d been in a long-distance relationship with a man in Georgia, but that had ended several months ago. She hadn’t dated anyone since. Maybe that would soon change.
“Relax,” Grayson said when I rejoined him at the far end of the ballroom. “Everything will be fine.”
I hoped he was right. He’d called Detective Marquez to fill her in on what we’d discovered and the fact that Connie had quit her job at the manor that morning. We figured she was long gone from Shady Creek. Whether she’d found the treasure or had decided that it didn’t exist or that it was too risky to keep searching, I didn’t know. I just hoped the police would be able to track her down.
While it was possible that someone else had killed Marcie, using the second floor entrance to the secret passageway to access the third-floor room, I doubted that was the case. Connie’s sudden departure made me all the more certain she was guilty.
Grayson and I had planned to show Officer Howes the secret passageway, but it seemed that would have to wait, since he was nowhere in sight. I tried to watch the couples who were dancing in the ballroom, but I couldn’t stay focused. An antsy energy buzzed through me, making it impossible to stay still.
“Hey.” Grayson took my hand and gave it a squeeze, stopping me from fidgeting with the skirt of my dress. “How about a dance?”
I agreed, hoping it would help pass the time. I didn’t expect to get swept up in the dance. The quartet was playing another Strauss waltz, and it turned out that Grayson knew what he was doing on the dance floor. With each step I relaxed a little bit more, until I was able to enjoy the moment. I became more and more aware of how close we were, of the heat of his hand on my back. When I looked into his eyes, a new type of energy buzzed through me, electric rather than antsy.
When the song came to an end, I broke eye contact and stepped back, putting some space between us. I knew from the warmth in my face that my cheeks were flushed.
“How did you learn to dance like that?” I asked him as we headed off the dance floor.
“I took lessons a few years back. How about you?”
“My mom insisted that a young lady should know how to dance,” I said. “She sent me to lessons for several years when I was growing up. I wasn’t impressed back then, but I’m glad of it now.”
As another song started up, I spotted Cordelia near one of the sets of French doors that led out to the patio. She was on her own, watching the dancers, a dreamy smile on her face.
Grayson must have followed my gaze. “Do you mind if I ask Cordelia to dance?”
I smiled at him. “Not at all. I think she’d love that.”
He gave my hand a squeeze. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I watched as he approached Cordelia and spoke to her. Her face lit up when he offered her his hand.
I spotted Aunt Gilda dancing with a man I didn’t recognize, and probably not just because of his mask. A moment later, I noticed Joey heading out onto the patio, with Sofie Talbot at his side. Shontelle and Officer Howes were still missing, though. If they were together, it would be my turn to grill Shontelle for details.
As a server passed by with a tray of champagne glasses, I eyed the drinks with longing. Creeping through secret passageways was thirsty work. I figured I’d be better off with a nonalcoholic drink, though. I wanted to keep my mind sharp in case I ended up talking to the police later in the evening.
Before getting a drink, however, I needed to make a trip to the restroom. I figured I could make it back to the ballroom before Grayson and Cordelia finished their dance.
As I left the ballroom, I passed the man in the hawklike mask again. I gave him a wide berth and hurried down the hall to the lobby and then to the women’s restroom. Before leaving the washroom a few minutes later, I checked my appearance in the mirror and was glad to find that my dress and hair weren’t any worse for exploring the dusty passageway.
I was about to leave the restroom when the door burst open, nearly hitting me. I jumped back, teetering on my high heels. When I’d regained my footing, I found myself staring at the dark-haired woman I’d seen with Hawk Man earlier.
“Evening, Sadie,” she said in a smooth voice. “Are you enjoying the party?”
I could have sworn that my blood ran cold.
Between the wig and the mask, I hadn’t recognized her. But now that she’d spoken, there was no mistaking the fact that I was standing face-to-face with Connie Archer.
Chapter 33
“But you left town,” I said as I took a step backward, my stunned and terrified mind not wanting to accept that Marcie’s killer was right in front of me.
“I wish.” Connie took a step toward me. “Unfortunately, I have a loose end to tie up before I go.”
I had a terrible feeling I was that loose end.
“That’s r
ight,” she said as if reading my thoughts. “I can’t leave you here to figure things out. I don’t want the police on my tail when I get out of this town.”
“Why did you think I’d figure things out?” I asked, hoping to stall for time while my mind whirled, trying to figure a way out of my predicament.
“You ask too many questions. You’re a real nosy parker.”
She wasn’t the first to call me that.
She took another step toward me and I backed up again. Another foot and I’d be pressed against the sinks.
“Did you find the treasure?” I asked, surprised that my voice remained steady.
She smirked. “See? You do know too much.”
“Just like Jan.”
Her smirk transformed into a scowl. “Exactly. She saw the author’s assistant sneaking around the hotel, just like I did, and she figured out why. Then she decided to look for the treasure herself. Can you believe that? It wasn’t theirs to find!”
“What makes it yours?” I bit down on my lower lip, hoping the question wouldn’t send her into a rage.
She took yet another step in my direction. “It’s mine because I’m Edwin Vallencourt’s great-niece.”
“So is Jan.”
Connie made a sound of dismissal. “She’s from the wrong side of the family, if you know what I mean.”
I didn’t, but again it was as if she read my mind.
“The side that gambled away the family’s fortune,” she explained. “Jan’s lucky I didn’t kill her. I’m glad I’ll never have to see her or this town after tonight.”
“Is that why you moved to Shady Creek? Because you wanted to find the treasure?”
“Why else would I move to this nowhere town? I found one of Edwin’s journals in an old box in my parents’ attic. He wrote about adding secret rooms and passageways when the manor was being built. After my husband lost his job, we decided to find out if the family legend about the treasure was true.”
“But he wanted you to quit,” I said, recalling their conversation at the Inkwell.
“Because he was losing his nerve.” She let out a huff. “I’ve always been the strong one in our marriage.”
