by Becki Willis
Or not.
With an almost imperceptible click, the door swung open. Feeling certain she had located the journals, Madison wiggled in glee and bent to retrieve them, only to find the chamber empty. Disappointment surged through her.
“What is it with all the cloak and dagger stuff?” she muttered aloud. Since almost half of Miss Juliet’s books were mysteries, it was safe to assume the woman had been enchanted with the genre. Perhaps her passion for mystery had played a dominant role in designing her home. The woman certainly had the opportunity, the money, and the space. On all three accounts, she could afford to add a secret passageway here, a hidden staircase there. Her new home could have secret chambers and hidden cabinets built in at whim, filling it with intricate caches and secluded hiding spots. Anything her clandestine heart desired.
This meant if there was one hidden cabinet, there were probably others. Madison looked around the room, paying particular attention to corners. In a room filled with alcoves, built-in bookcases, and elaborate woodwork, the options were many. Every breakfront held a possibility. A solid panel taunted twice the opportunity.
For the next thirty minutes, Madison retraced the room, tapping and shoving, trying to trigger hidden mechanisms and the secret spaces they protected. She discovered three more.
A slim vertical panel between two bookcases held an old gun. A single barrel shotgun if she was not mistaken. Leaving it as is, she made a mental note to ask Brash of its worth. A secret drawer tucked beneath a shelf of books protected a stash of old letters and loose papers. These, Madison removed for later perusal. Lastly, she discovered another small cabinet, this one high overhead, hidden behind an alcove’s fur down.
She needed a chair to reach it. She was climbing atop the seat, stretching upward, when she heard a noise from downstairs. The workers had gone for the day. So who did she hear rummaging around down below?
With a glance out the windows, Madison belatedly noticed that dusk had fallen. When the uneasy feeling between her shoulders returned, she found herself abandoning the newly discovered cabinet to sneak her way to the door. She tiptoed out onto the landing and peered down. Darkness crept in from the windows. With no lights left burning, the area below was dark and shadowed.
Another shuffling sound. Someone was definitely in the house, most likely Nick. The lead carpenter often stayed over, long after the workers had gone home for the day. He was, after all, meticulous with details. Madison suspected he was a workaholic, always finding something else that needed doing, something that needed fine-tuning.
“Nick? Is that you?” she called out.
No answer, just a distinctive thump from below.
Without stopping to question her reasoning, Madison quickly crossed the second floor landing, bypassed the grand stairway, and made her way to the servants’ staircase at the rear of the house. She kept her footsteps light. Checking that her cell phone was still in her pocket, Madison quietly crept down the stairs.
This staircase was decidedly less ornate than its showy counterpart at the front of the house. Strung from the first floor to the third, the steps here were simple and steep, the walls narrow. The back stairway had none of the polished banisters and exquisite details of the grand centerpiece, just a simple handrail along one wall. Nor, Madison breathed thankfully to herself, did it have the stark but crude spiral of the hidden passage down to the sub-basement. Just one turn on this steep descent.
Madison was halfway down the flight, almost to the landing, when blackness engulfed her. The overhead bulb went off, snuffing the already dim light from the passage. She stopped mid-step, gripping the narrow handrail. Perhaps the bulb had burned out, reaching the natural end of its lifespan. Perhaps someone had flipped the switch at the kitchen entrance. Perhaps power had been lost to the entire house. All that mattered at the moment was that she was surrounded by pitch, and the steps were unfamiliar. She eased slowly down, settling one foot onto the step at a time, feeling her way to the bottom of the staircase. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the faintest of glow behind her, weak light filtering down from the second floor, proof that the electricity was working. There was no such light below, meaning the kitchen lights were off. Most likely, whoever had been in the house had turned off all the lights downstairs, including the one to the stairway.
Okay, so they’re energy conscious, she thought, trying to soothe her nerves. Good. That’s good. I’m sure whoever it was had no idea I was still in the house. Obviously, they didn’t hear me call out. They were probably leaving, turning out lights as they went.
She reached the bottom step at last and reached for the doorknob. When it did not turn, she rattled it vigorously.
“Hello?” she called out. “Anyone there?”
She heard another bump and waited expectantly for the door to open. She heard feet shuffle on the other side. She thought she heard someone breathing. But the door remained closed.
“Hello?” She banged on the door for good measure. “Excuse me, but I’m still in here! Please open the door.”
This time, there was no doubt that someone was on the other side. Madison could hear their ragged breath as they pulled in a deep gulp of air. She nervously did the same, impulsively pulling back. Quite without realizing it, she took a step backward, onto the stile above her. Then she took another, and another, until she turned and fled up the dark passage, as quickly and quietly as the blackness would allow her. It was too reminiscent of being stuck behind the fireplace wall. Whoever was downstairs knew she was in the stairwell and had no intentions of helping her.
Finally at the top, Madison ran into the master suite of rooms, slamming and locking the door behind her. The rambling suite had too many rooms, too many doors. Madison raced to lock them all. She barricaded herself in the sitting room, locking doors on either side for a second layer of protection. Only then did she pull out her cell phone and call Nick.
“Good evening, Madison,” came his pleasant voice. “This is a nice surprise. I didn’t expect—”
She cut off his pleasantries with a sharp, “Are you here at the house? In the kitchen?”
“No, I’m at the hotel. Everyone has gone home for the day. I locked the doors behind me, but you’ll need to set the alarm.”
“Someone is here. Could it be Amanda?”
“No, she’s still out of town. What’s this all about?”
“I heard someone moving around down below. I called out to them, but they didn’t answer. I was coming down the back stairwell when they turned out the lights and locked the door.”
“Paul or Roberto must have gone back for something. I’m sure they had no idea you were in the stairwell.”
“Whoever is in the house deliberately ignored me. I called out to them and could hear them on the other side of the door, but they would not answer.”
Concern sparked in his voice. “Where are you now?”
“Locked in the sitting room in the master suite.”
“Are you all right?” Nick asked sharply.
“A-A little shaken,” she admitted.
“Stay where you are. I’ll be right there!”
She did not argue. She was unaccustomed to having men rush to her rescue, but tonight she had no objections. Having never bought into the whole ‘damsel in distress’ thinking, Madison had more confidence in herself than she did in most men she knew. Between her own streak of independence and her late husband’s rare show of protectiveness, she was used to fighting her own battles. She had to admit, however, that if Brash were available, she might have called him, and not necessarily because he was the chief of police. But he was out of town and Nick could be here in less than ten minutes.
“Hurry,” was all she said.
***
It took eight. Eight minutes of pacing, straining to hear sounds of someone in the outer rooms. Eight minutes of staring at either doorknob, thinking she saw them jiggle more than once. Eight minutes of deep breathing techniques and trying to soothe her jagge
d nerves.
“Madison! Madison, are you all right?”
She heard Nick’s voice as he burst through the front door. She did not immediately answer, lest she give her location away to whomever else had been in the house. Another two minutes ticked painfully away, until she heard Nick’s voice again, this time closer.
“Madison, it’s okay. It’s Nick. You can come out now.”
Madison took a moment to calm herself, running her hands over her fluttering stomach. She smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes, as surely as if she smoothed her ragged nerves. A final pat to her hair, a deeply indrawn breath, and Madison unlocked the door.
“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously, reaching for her hands.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She tried laughing, but the sound was nervous and tight. “Feeling a bit silly, to be honest. I’m sure I overreacted. It’s just that this week has been so strange…” Her voice trailed off, but she noticed the tight lines around his mouth. “What? What is it?”
“I don’t think you were overreacting,” he told her solemnly. “Come with me.”
When he tugged on her hand, she followed without question.
Nick led her down the grand staircase, where the lights now gleamed brightly. They crossed through the formal dining room with its fabulous murals, passed through the butler’s pantry, and stepped into the kitchen. With half the room gutted and bare, the other half covered in tools and sawdust and general disorder, it took Madison a moment to focus. Nick pointed to the door leading to the back stairwell, drawing her attention to the kitchen’s newest guest.
A three-foot skeleton, the kind used for Halloween decoration, dangled just in front of the portal. Had Madison gone through the door earlier, she would have no doubt run directly into the plastic bones. She shivered slightly, imagining the fright it would have given her.
Just as someone planned, she realized.
Nick looked angry. “deCordova had better get control of these teenagers around here! If this persists, the show will be forced to press charges.”
Madison looked at him sharply. “You think kids are behind this?”
“Equipment unplugged, cameras turned off, writing on mirrors. Now this.”
Madison studied the indicated skeleton, strung in the exact spot she had heard the intruder. It was a message, she was certain of it. No matter the originally intended location for the frightful toy, the intruder left it here when he or she realized Madison was in the stairwell.
Nick still ranted. “I don’t have time for this. We are pitifully behind schedule as it is. These kids have to be stopped. And of course it’s kids. Who else would do such juvenile foolishness?”
Madison had no answer.
Who else, indeed?
Chapter Nine
If Nick was angry that evening, he was livid by morning.
Additional spooky guests appeared overnight. White sheets were strung up to look like ghosts floating through the air. Their precise placement — Miss Juliet’s bedroom, the upstairs library, the basement stairway — reinforced Madison’s suspicion that someone was sending her a message. But the dead chicken left in the quarantined sub-basement room sent the most threatening message of all. There was no note, but Madison heard the message loud and clear. Remember what happened at Ronny Gleason’s chicken houses. Your life was in danger then. It still is.
Brash immediately declared the entire house off-limits. Back in town, he took over the scene and declared a three-day weekend at the Big House. He was immune to Nick’s outrage and Amanda’s pleas. He ordered everyone off the property. Even the cameras were ordered turned off.
Banished from the premises, Madison had no choice but to obey. While Brash and his crew did a thorough search of the old estate, she abandoned her search for the journals and turned her attention to duties at In a Pinch.
It was Friday, the day she ran errands for Miss Sybille. She had a half-day gig at Dean Lewis Insurance Company, but her afternoon yawned free, leaving her time to work on Allen Wynn’s property dispute.
A quick check with the county tax rolls confirmed Allen’s claim that his family kept the taxes up-to-date on the acreage in question. With two surveys, tax receipts dating back over a century, and the rule of the law behind him, Madison thought Allen should pursue legal action. She admired his hesitance to sue a neighbor and appreciated the job offer, but it appeared her services were not needed. She told Allen as much when she called him.
“I know, Maddy…” He was still reluctant to bring in a lawyer. “Could you just go out there one more time, see if there was anything you missed? Did you go over the entire property?”
“Well, no,” she admitted. “I didn’t explore the gully or the thickest area of the trees.”
“The exact spots he is challenging,” Allen pointed out.
“Did you know he has a spy-cam up? Traps set?”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Unfortunately, no. I still have the swollen ankle to prove it.”
“Obviously the man is out of control. Maybe I should call the sheriff and let him handle it. I just hate the thought of sending an old man to jail.”
Madison’s defeated sigh carried over the phone. “Oh, all right. I’ll go back out there, see if I can find any possible reason that he’s being so mule-headed.”
“Thanks, Maddy. I’ll tuck a little something extra in your envelope.”
So with Derron in tow as backup, Madison returned to the base of Pine Bluff.
“Tell me again what we’re here for,” the young man said as he bent to tuck his skinny-legged jeans into the tops of bright red rubber boots. Ever the fashionista, his chambray work shirt was also red.
Maddy refused to look down at her own wardrobe. Now minus one boot of her own, she was wearing an old pair of Bethani’s. The turquoise leather uppers clashed with the mostly blue T-shirt she wore; mostly, because it sported two large bleach spots down the front. She had on the same torn jacket from her first visit, not wanting to subject any more of her wardrobe to prickly vines and limbs.
“Because I obviously missed something before. Something that makes this thicket of woods worth protecting, even by nefarious means.”
Derron studied the dense woods directly before them. “We aren’t actually going in there, are we? Because these are Dolce & Gabbana.”
“I told you what we were doing before we left. I can’t help it if you wore designer jeans.” Madison shook her head. Sometimes it felt like Derron was her third child.
Despite his flair for dramatics, the petite man was a true asset to her fledgling business. Over the past four months, Madison had accepted a wide range of jobs. Walking dogs. Running errands and providing taxi service to and from doctor appointments. Filling in at various offices and retail stores around town. A commercial chicken farm. Gathering information and providing surveillance for a private detective, a jealous wife, and a mother desperate to prove her son’s innocence. But Derron brought with him a different skill set, allowing her to accept jobs that were even more diverse. He had covered three manual labor jobs, lent his strong back to move furniture, and used his talents to build backyard fences. Slowly but surely, In a Pinch was gaining a reputation for being the go-to for odd and temporary jobs, and Derron Mullins was partially responsible.
Ignoring her scolding, the young man whipped a gadget from his pocket and waved it over the top of the fence. Without glancing her way, he knew she scrunched her forehead. “Checking for an electrical charge,” he explained. “No need to be electrocuted, first rattle out of the box.”
“I, too, came prepared,” she announced proudly, producing two metal detectors. “Handy for discovering traps, hidden treasures of gold, and any other metal secrets these woods hold in store. Plus,” she dug in her jacket pocket and pulled out a small device, “this snazzy little bug detector. Camera variety, not insect.”
“Since this is show and tell time…” As Derron tugged on his shirt to raise it, Madison had a brief moment
of worry. What, exactly, did he plan to show her? She was almost relieved to see the holstered gun snuggled flat against his rub-board abs.
The relief quickly evaporated. “A gun? You brought a gun?” she squeaked.
“Oh, please, girlfriend. You’ve lived in the city too long,” he chastised her. “Guns aren’t just for turf wars and to massacre innocent people. Guns don’t always take lives; most times they can save your own. What if a wild boar rushes us? What if we see a skunk, or a snake? And don’t forget the rumors of big cats around these parts.”
“Is it legal?”
“I’m not a moron, Madison. Of course, it’s legal. Legal, registered, and backed by a safety course.” Offended by her still-skeptical look, he produced a deep scowl. “What? You thought I brought this in case we encountered Hank Adams?” Derron shook his blond head in disgust. “And you thought I was melodramatic!”
Duly reprimanded, Madison offered a meek smile. “I’m sorry. Guns make me nervous.”
“You’re a woman living alone, you often dabble in investigative work, you’ve had several attempts made on your life, and you travel out and about in the countryside. You need a gun, Madison. Ask that hunky boyfriend of yours to teach you how to handle one.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“And whose fault is that?” When he turned his back to her, Madison childishly stuck her tongue out at him. “Saw that!” he claimed.
Bickering put aside, they slipped through the strands of barbed wire and made their way into the thicket of dense woods. “Here.” Madison handed Derron one of the metal detectors. “Look for anything other than a normal forest. Flag it with tape if you find anything.”
Without the heat of the afternoon sun, the air was cooler in the thickly shaded area, making Madison grateful for the jacket she wore. The lack of direct sunlight also made it difficult to see, slowing their progress as much as the underbrush and the precautionary measures did. The duo proceeded slowly through the woods, sweeping the ground with the metal detector, the air with the surveillance detector. They stayed within eyesight of the other as they widened their scope, looking for anything amiss.
