“It’s a good thing they’re both dead, otherwise….” He cleared his throat and patted my back. “I hate to say this, but I think it’s time for a new roof.”
“Oh. That’s no fun. New roofs cost a fortune and I doubt I can afford to do that and still do the home theater, too.”
“Maybe you can get away with just some patchwork. Tell you what. Go get a marker or some chalk, and we can circle all the water stains, and that’ll give us a better idea.”
I fetched two black markers from my desk in the living room, and we went to work marking the spots. A few minutes into it, Pop said, “This is not looking good, Katy. I know you had the house inspected before you bought it. What did they say about the roof?”
“That I would probably need to replace it in five years.”
“Well, we haven’t had much rain in six or seven years, but that recent downpour seems to have found all the holes. It’d be crazy to spend money up here and then have water pouring in.” He leaned against a stud and crossed his arms.
“What’s wrong, Pop?”
“I’m looking at the chimney. Something odd about it. I’m going downstairs to check something. You keep circling water stains.”
Seven more circles and Pop returned with a tape measure. “For some odd reason, this chimney flue is a lot deeper than it should be.”
“Do you think I could add another fireplace to it? Think how cozy that would be up here.”
“No. Every fireplace needs a separate path, otherwise you’d have carbon monoxide venting into this room.” He pulled out the end of the tape measure. “Help me measure this.”
I held the tape on a corner of the chimney. “I was so excited the first time I looked at this house and saw it had a real old fashioned brick fireplace and not a metal insert.”
“Too expensive to build these days, not to mention illegal in new construction. Now let’s measure the depth.” He stepped to the side of the flue. “Honey? I can’t see the numbers. Would you get me a flashlight?”
I have little LED flashlights plugged in around the house that go on whenever the power goes out. What I like best about them is that I always have a fully charged flashlight available.
After giving Daisy a hug at the bottom of the stairs, I returned to the attic and shined the light on the tape measure.
“That’s strange. I did a rough measure downstairs and this makes no sense.” He slipped the tape measure into his pocket. “Give me the flashlight.” He aimed the beam behind the chimney, then moved around to the front. “Take a look at this.” He again directed the flashlight on the front bricks, then on the back. “Notice anything?”
“They look different. The bricks in the back are dark red and don’t have the reclaimed look that the rest of the chimney has. Do you think someone repaired it at some point and figured it didn’t have to match since it’s in the attic?”
“Maybe.” Pop shook his head, looking skeptical. “Whoever did this was no mason, that’s for damned sure. Hell, I could do a better job than this.”
“Or…” I was getting excited. “Maybe somebody hid something. Maybe there’s another—”
“Treasure chest?”
“Why not?” I punched his arm and he laughed. “Why the hell not, Pop? Stranger things have happened.”
“Can’t argue with that.” He swept the light back and forth over the surface of the flue. “I don’t think it’ll take much to remove this cheap add-on brick. But, Katy, by doing that we run the risk of screwing up a chimney repair.”
“When I had that home inspection, the inspector didn’t mention this, so I’m not going to worry about it. But we both know we’ll never rest until this mystery is solved.” I recalled what Emily had said when we were looking at the wood box. You know, this could be a new Nancy Drew mystery. “The secret in the old chimney,” I whispered.
“What’d you say, honey?”
“Nuthin’.” I grinned. “Just thinking out loud.”
“Why don’t you go down to my truck and grab my toolbox. Guess I should’ve brought it up when I got the tape measure.”
I scrambled down the steps with Pop yelling, “It’s heavy, so be careful.”
I lugged the red metal box up the steps, banging it against my shins several times. “Great. Just when the old bruises have finally faded away.” When I was shoulder-level with the attic floor, Pop leaned down and grabbed the handle.
He set the box by the chimney. “We’re going to need more light.”
“I have a couple LED lanterns. Be right back.”
When I came back with the lanterns, Pop was examining the mortar with the flashlight. “This is going to make a big mess, Katy. Run down to my truck and grab the tarp in the back.”
My legs were aching from the previous trips down the stairs, but I didn’t want to complain. “I don’t care about the mess.”
“You will when it’s time to clean it up. Oh, and bring up a stepstool.”
Pop began chiseling out the mortar and handing me the bricks. “The way this mortar is crumbling away, whoever did this should have just stacked the bricks and not even bothered with mortar. Can you hold the lantern a little higher, honey?”
I was holding it over my head with one hand while taking bricks with the other. “No.” I set the lantern on the floor and stretched my aching arms. “I’m going to get a chair to stand on.”
I was moving slow now. I thought my poor old shins had recovered from when the treasure box landed on them but evidently not. Before I lugged a kitchen chair to the attic, I popped a couple of ibuprofens, did a few stretches, and gave Daisy a treat.
Back in the attic, I stood on the chair next to Pop. “Do you want me to take a turn?”
He handed me the chisel and hammer and took the lantern. “Be my guest.”
I slammed into the mortar and sandy granules sprayed into my face.
“Not so hard, Katy. We really should have safety glasses on. I left mine at the shop. Do you have any?”
“No. I’ll be more careful. Why do you think it’s so crumbly?”
“It has to do with the ratio of cement, sand, and lime. You can buy premixed mortar in different strengths. I’m guessing this was the cheapest available. And now, my dear, you know as much as I do about mortar.”
I took another whack and two bricks popped out and landed on the floor near my father’s feet. “Sorry, Pop. I didn’t realize they were about to fall out.”
“Hold on.” He lifted the lantern. “Do you see that?”
I raised on tiptoe, craning my neck. “Oh my God. We were right. Something is hidden behind these bricks.”
He chuckled. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”
“Why else would it be hollow back there? This wasn’t a patch job.” I looked at my father. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re thinking there’s another box of gold coins back there.”
“And this time it’s way bigger. So big and so valuable that it had to be hidden behind a brick wall. This is the best day ever!”
Daisy barked at the foot of the steps. “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s just excited, that’s all.”
I tapped the next section of mortar a few times, and Pop removed the brick. After a few more were removed, I got overzealous and gave the next section of mortar a hard whack and just as Pop predicted, a few particles flew into my left eye. I dropped the tools, and just as I was about to rub my eye, Pop grabbed my hand.
“No! You’ll scratch your cornea.”
I cupped my hand over my eye, and he helped me downstairs to the kitchen sink. My eye was gushing tears, my nose was running, and I could feel the grit gouging my eyeball.
“Do you have an eyewash cup?” he asked.
“No.”
“Shot glass?”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to wash out your eye with the sprayer.”
“That does not sound fun.”
“Or we can go to the ER. Your ch
oice.”
“No! I can’t wait that long. Just do it.”
He turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. “Okay, this feels pretty good. Now put your head down and tilt so I can get a good aim. Try to keep your eye open.”
He aimed the gentle spray at my eye, and I flinched and got a nose full.
“You have to stay still, Katy.”
“I’m trying. This is worse than when you used to pull splinters out of my fingers.”
After three tries, my eye suddenly felt better. “Okay, you got it.” Water was dribbling down my neck, and about two inches into my hairline was soaked. “Can you hand me a dishtowel?”
After I dried off, Pop said, “You want to call it a day?”
“Are you kidding? No way. But you chisel and I’ll watch from a safe distance.”
After we removed another row of bricks, Pop took the lantern and held it in the hollow space.
“Can you see anything?” I asked.
“No, and stop rubbing your eye. Here, take the lantern.” He tapped a few spots and removed two bricks. “I sure hope we’re not doing all this work for nothing. Now that I can get some leverage, I’m going to slam it a few times from the inside. You better get off the chair and go across the room.”
“Be careful,” I said. “You don’t want any of the grit getting into your eyes. Really hurts.”
He slipped on his cheater glasses, then put the hammer on the inside of the wall and gave it a good hit. Nothing happened.
“Try again. Harder.”
“It’s difficult to get good momentum, but here goes nothing.” Pop hammered the bricks several times and suddenly the entire wall collapsed into a dusty pile.
“Wow, that was like a mini earthquake. Good job, Pop.”
“Stay back!” he yelled.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I crossed the room. “Oh my God! Oh my God!”
“Dammit, Katy. I told you to stay back!”
My screams had driven Daisy into a frenzy downstairs. The pull-down steps thudded against the floor as she struggled to climb up to save me.
I rushed to the stairs. “No! Off! Mama’s all right.” I wasn’t, but I didn’t need her breaking a leg. “Sit!”
She sat trembling at the foot of the ladder, the ridge of her back puffed to high alert.
Pop came to my side. “Go downstairs and call the police.”
“Let me catch my breath, first.” I placed my hand over my heart. “Wow. Was not expecting that.”
“Whoever he is, was, he’s been dead a very long time,” said Pop. “And now we know why the brick wall was built.”
Knowing the man had been dead a long time made it easier for me to look at the withered corpse propped against the back of the chimney. Morbid fascination drew me closer to inspect our archeological find.
The dead man’s jaw gaped grotesquely, all the teeth still intact, even two gold crowns. Frizzled brown hair covered his leathery skull. His wide-lapelled pinstriped suit was dusty. A plaid tie dangled from his shriveled neck. Wing-tip shoes were set heels together, toes splayed at ninety degrees to fit inside the narrow space. The head and body were held erect by a rope strung zigzag down his frame and nailed to two-by-four wood boards screwed to the bricks.
“His suit looks like something out of the 1930’s or 40’s,” said Pop. “There’s only one reason why a body would be hidden like this.”
“He was murdered,” I whispered. “But why? And who is he?”
Pop took his phone from his pants pocket. “Time to call the police.”
“Why’d you tell me to go downstairs to call if you had your phone?”
He pointed at the dehydrated cadaver. “Because I didn’t want you looking at that.” He dialed the number. “This is Kurt Melby. This isn’t an emergency, but I need to talk to someone about a dead body.” After the call he said, “We better wait downstairs.”
Ten minutes later, two police officers arrived. When I opened the door, I saw Angela Yaeger parking at the curb. Pop spoke to the officers while I waited on the porch for the chief. She was casually dressed in skinny jeans, boots, and a fuzzy knee-length cardigan.
“My hubby and I were on our way out the door to go to a fundraiser brunch at Le Stella,” she said as she climbed the steps, “when I got a call about a dead body at Katy McKenna’s house. Well, I certainly couldn’t pass that up.” She gave me a quick squeeze. “Girl? What is it with you?”
I shrugged, shaking my head. “Just super lucky I guess. The good news is, there’s no way anyone can pin the blame on me.”
“Yes, I was told that Kurt said it was an old corpse, so I guess I don’t have to read you your rights,” she said with a grin. “Lead me to it.”
Inside, Pop was holding Daisy’s collar while talking to the cops. “Katy? Take your dog, and I’ll show the officers and the chief what we found.”
I put Daisy in my bedroom and shut the door. I had no desire to go back in the attic, so I sat on the sofa and speculated about the dead man.
A few minutes later, Josh walked in, looking rattled. “Katy. I saw the squad cars. What’s going on?” He sat beside me, taking my icy hands in his warm grasp. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but the man upstairs? Not so much.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We found a corpse in the attic. God, talk about a house of horrors. Even if I wanted to sell this house, no one would buy it. I think I need a glass of water.” I stood, took one step, and my knees wobbled. Josh eased me back to the couch.
He went to the kitchen and returned with water. “Now, tell me what happened.”
My house is once again a crime scene. Can you believe it? And I’m back in the guest/sewing room at my folks until the cops do all their forensic stuff. But I doubt they’ll be able to piece together much of a story. Too many years and owners have come and gone since he flat-lined. I hope he deserved what he got.
And now it’s lights out for me. I’ve had enough of this day.
Chapter Forty-Six
COINS AND CADAVERS
MONDAY • MARCH 16
Posted by Katy McKenna
The mystery corpse has been identified. The murderer made it easy by leaving the victim’s driver’s license and a confession letter, in the inside breast pocket of his suit. The deceased was...drumroll...Harold Allan Petersen—Mabel’s runaway hubby.
According to Mabel’s confession, when Harry told her he’d knocked up his secretary and was running away with her, not only did she feel betrayed but heartbroken, too. She’d lost two babies in childbirth and desperately wanted children. She begged Harry not to leave her and offered to raise the illegitimate child as her own. But Harry ridiculed her, calling her a dried-up old prune. I did the math and she was close to my age at the time. Anyway, it was their last conversation, because the old prune stabbed the cad in the back.
Mabel spread the rumor about Harry running off, and I guess, no one ever questioned the story. I wonder what happened to the expectant secretary? Her baby would be elderly now.
I’ll never know how Mabel got the money, but here’s my theory based on what my neighbor, Nina Lowen, told me about Mabel Petersen….
Her wealthy grandfather pulled all his money out of the stock market before the big crash of 1929. I think he invested the cash in gold coins, and Mabel inherited them when he died.
I also think that her grandfather passed after Harry’s untimely demise, and Mabel couldn’t risk the media attention that wealthy heiresses receive, so she squirreled it away in the attic. Get it? Squirreled?
Anyway, if Mabel inherited the money while Harry was still in the picture, I doubt he would’ve dumped her. Or being the rat that he was, he might have murdered her and run off with his secretary and the money. And it would have been Mabel’s body hidden in the attic for all these years instead of his.
Of course, this is all pure conjecture on my part, but it makes sense, don’t you think?
After all the bad stuf
f that’s happened in my house, I’d like to sell it and start fresh, but it’s unlikely I’d get fair market value given that two murders have occurred in it. No doubt the next thing I’ll discover about my home is that it’s sitting on top of an ancient burial ground. I love the original Poltergeist movie but sure don’t want to live it.
Epilogue
COINS AND CADAVERS
WEDNESDAY • MARCH 18
Posted by Katy McKenna
Last night, during a romantic rendezvous, Josh received a call from Nicole. She was having a rough night and was afraid to be alone.
“I’m sorry, Katy.” He kissed my forehead and climbed out of bed.
“It’s not your fault. She’s sick and she needs you.”
He threw on his clothes, and I followed him to the front door. As he leaned in for a goodnight kiss, his phone rang again.
“Let me know if you need help,” I called as he rushed down the porch steps.
I bolted the door, turned on the alarm, and got my laptop off the coffee table. In the kitchen, I drained the last of the bottle of wine Josh had brought over and crawled back in bed, feeling grumpy on so many levels.
Nicole’s timing couldn’t have been better, if you get my drift.
I don’t think she’s told Josh how she feels yet.
Daisy and Tabitha were cuddled in a heap at the foot of the bed, which meant I couldn’t move my feet without disturbing them.
I’ve got PMS. Enough said.
I opened my computer and logged into Facebook to see what the rest of the world was up to. Bio-Dad Bert had posted new photos of my little baby brother, Aiden. My friend, Hannah, had shared a hilarious video about dogs who are afraid to walk past their cranky cat siblings.
Next, I read a story about caring people who adopt senior dogs that have been abandoned at animal shelters because their people died. It got me thinking about the old dachshund at the no-kill shelter.
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 77
