"What's he cutting through?"
"Looks like plaster and tape," Jake replied. "Whoever did the work was proficient. After he cut out the wall, he squared it, then fitted a gypsum board—"
"What's gypsum? Sorry I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You call it drywall in America."
"Oh. I know about drywall. You're saying he put in drywall and taped it?"
"Something like that."
"What was the wall originally?"
"Probably a combination of materials. Plaster, wood, brick. It would have been updated through the years."
"Jake, I'm going to open the top," Dan said, turning off the saw. "Can you hold the board?"
"Coming."
As Dan and Jake continued their work, April moved slowly to an area near the fuse box. The floor had been swept clean, but appeared to be damp.
"Jonathan? Is this where it happened?"
"Yes. That's where they found the blood splatter."
"Blood splatter," she repeated. "I've heard that term so many times. I never thought I'd hear it being spoken to me."
She could feel the ache spring to life, but just as the weight of the moment threatened tears, she felt a warm sensation around her shoulders. It was Troy, she was sure of it. He had his arm around her, and a moment later she smelled him. His expensive spicy cologne was unmistakable.
"April? Are you all right?"
"Yes, Jonathan, thanks, I'm fine."
"We're there," Jake declared. "You might want to stay back. There could be rats and bats."
"Rats and bats," April repeated. "That sounds like it should be the name of something. A rock band maybe."
"The light is going to shine directly into the space," Jake said, "so hopefully that will send any unwanted creatures scampering in the opposite direction."
With Jake holding it steady, Dan had finished cutting out the large square. Turning off the saw, he placed in on the ground and moved to stand next to him.
"Okay, Jake. On my count we'll move it back a few inches, then slide it to the left. Ready?"
"Ready."
"One-two-three."
In spite of the warning, April moved forward, and as the large piece of gypsum moved away, the powerful lamp illuminated the space behind it. Just as Jonathan had described, cloths were covering a vast array of objects, some of which were obviously paintings.
"Good grief," April mumbled. "What is all this?"
"I'm going in," Jake declared, placing a mask over his mouth and nose. "Dan, bring some more lights over here."
Hurrying to follow Jake's orders, Dan placed three additional lamps in front of the huge hole in the wall. Jake had already disappeared from sight, and as the minutes ticked by, April thought he was taking too long.
"There's probably a lot to see," Jonathan remarked, sensing her angst. "Time always seems to lag when you're waiting."
"I hope there isn't some monster living in there that's gobbled him up," she muttered, but as the words left her lips, he suddenly stepped into the light.
"There used to be another wall between the door at the side of the house, and all this stuff. Looks like this was created as a hiding place behind a small storage shed. I also found out why we couldn't open that door all the way. There was a trunk wedged against it. I managed to move it and I left the door open so the place could air out a bit. Mrs. Hammond, I assume you want to step in here and take a look."
"Yes, absolutely."
"I think, once that brush is cleared out, it will be easier coming in from the side of the house. From the way everything is stacked it looks as if it was originally loaded through that door, then the wall was built to hide it. Not the cellar wall, the wall that became the back of the storage shed. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Totally. You're standing in a big room that was once divided in two."
"Exactly. Someone went to a great deal of trouble many years ago."
"I wonder why?"
"I'd like to know the answer to that myself," Jake said solemnly. "Whoever did it was determined these things wouldn't be found. Okay, I'm coming out. I expect we'll find prints on the unpainted side of the gypsum, and we'll check the skeleton, but everything else is covered with an inch of dust. Forensically I'm not seeing any relevance to the crime, but all this artwork looks like a motive. What do you think detective?"
"If those coverings haven't been disturbed, then yes, I agree."
"What am I supposed to do?" April mumbled, staring at the many items and cloth-covered paintings. "How can I possibly sort through it all? Who should I have come and help me? I can't possibly tackle something like this."
"We can talk about that later, but don't mention this to another living soul."
"No, of course not, but I kicked a hole in that darn gate, and the side door is open now. If anyone goes into the backyard they'll see it."
"You'll just need to make sure they don't. We don't need nosy neighbors poking around."
"Jake?"
A voice from the top of the steps caught their attention. Looking up, April saw Steve, the man she'd met on the stairs.
"Hey, Steve, what's up?" Jake called back.
"Alex and I are finished. Do we need to check out anything else?"
"No. We're almost done here too. Why don't you start loading up?"
"Will do."
"I'm going to see what he found," Jonathan said. "Join me when you're ready, April."
"Okay. I'm just going to take a quick look."
"Mrs. Hammond," Jake said, handing her a face mask. "Be sure and put this on. The air is pretty bad in there."
"Thanks, and please call me April."
"Take all the time you want. We'll start working on the gypsum. When you're done we'll move the board back into place to stop any vermin that might be around."
"Ah, right. I hadn't thought of that. How will it stay up?"
"We'll put a box against it. It's not heavy. You won't have any problem sliding it away if you need to."
Stepping around the lights, April walked cautiously forward. With the side door wide open, and the bright lamps shining in from behind her, she was able to see the scope of the room. It was much larger than she'd thought it would be, and she understood why Jake had said the items had been brought in through the side of the house. Everything appeared to be backed up against the cellar wall, and there wasn't a lot of space to get through it. She was tempted to lift the heavy material off the paintings, but the dust was so thick she was afraid to disturb it, and it occurred to her a commercial vacuum would be ideal. As well as the other treasures, she could see the claw feet of what appeared to be a desk peeking out from under its protective cloth.
"How will I prevent all this from being stolen?" she mumbled. "Jonathan asleep in a downstairs bedroom won't stop someone if they're determined, and they could hurt him too."
"What did you think?" Jake asked as she walked around the lights and back into the cellar. "I know most everything was covered up, but from the little I saw it looked impressive."
"It's incredible. I wonder how long it's been in there."
"Those hinges on the side door and gates are old, really old. Decades, I'd say."
"But that padlock was new. It's such a mystery. I'm going upstairs. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"No thanks. We're almost done with this board. We'll check the skeleton then be on our way. It won't take long, but we will be sealing off the door, and the area directly in front of it. We did a quick check in the main area of the kitchen and there's nothing there."
"That's a relief. Thanks for everything."
"All in a day's work."
Climbing up the steps and entering the kitchen, she pulled off the protective shoe coverings and hurried into the living room. It was no longer taped off, and Jonathan was deep in conversation with Steve and another team man she assumed was Alex. Not wanting to interrupt, she was about to return to the kitchen when there was a knock on the front door. Moving quickly past them into
the foyer, she opened it and found Maude holding a casserole dish and a bottle of milk.
"Hello, April. Is everything okay? Why are there policemen out front? Should I stop by later?"
"No, please, come in."
"If you're sure."
"Yes, it's fine," she insisted, then realizing if they went into the kitchen Jake and Dan might appear from the cellar, she quickly added, "Why don't we go into the conservatory."
"The conservatory?"
"I'm not allowed to walk through the living room," April continued, guiding the vicar's wife down the hall to the back of the house.
"What's going on? Can you tell me?"
"I can. Please, sit down and I'll explain."
The conservatory was a glass enclosed room that overlooked the end of the backyard.
"Troy did such a beautiful job," Maude remarked. "Such a lovely young man. Anyway, this is chicken and vegetable casserole, and April, I have to say you're looking less pale."
"Thank you. I do feel a bit better."
"So, my dear, what's all the fuss about?"
"The police have decided Troy didn't fall down the stairs after all."
"He didn't?"
"No. It's very hard for me to say this, but my wonderful husband was murdered."
"I don't believe it. Who would want to do such a thing?"
"I can't imagine. All I know is a murder inquiry is underway. The detective in charge of the case will want to talk to you."
"Me?"
"You had access to the house. His name is D.I. Banks. He'll be talking to everyone who came and went."
"I've never spoken to the police before. Not officially I mean."
"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."
"My goodness. I never expected to hear something like this. Foster will be turning in his grave."
"Maude, I know his name was Harrison, but Troy never did tell me why people called him Foster. Do you know?"
"He loved Foster's beer. He always had a glass of it in his hand. Lived on the stuff."
"He sounds like quite a character."
"Foster was a handsome devil. Handsome and charming, and such a twinkle in his eye. All that black hair and those blue eyes. He broke a lot of hearts. Troy looked a lot like him."
"I think Troy might have broken some too."
"I remember the day Foster left here. He was so upset, the poor man. Kept swearing he'd come back, and yelling at people that they weren't allowed in the house."
"Who made him leave?"
"That beastly woman. Troy's mother. Of course he'd had a bad stroke. He needed care. I think she expected him to kick the bucket much sooner than he did. He probably lived longer just to spite her, and I'm sure she didn't expect Troy to end up owning Hammond Hall."
"No, I don't believe she did."
"I must be going," Maude suddenly declared, rising to her feet and handing April the casserole dish. "Just pop it in the oven at three-fifty for thirty-minutes."
"This is very kind of you."
"You let me know if you need anything, anything at all."
"Thank you. I'll see you to the door."
As they walked down the hall and passed the living room, April saw Jonathan staring out the front window. It appeared the forensics team had left. He was on the phone and by himself.
"See you later, Maude."
"Goodbye, dear. Take care of yourself."
Closing the door, April turned to see Jonathan drop his phone into his pocket, and he was wearing a grim expression.
"What is it?" she asked, walking in to join him. "You look worried."
"I need to go back to the office, but Ben is on his way here. He'll stay until I come back around five. A police car out front will be a deterrent."
"You're that concerned?"
"Seeing all those valuable pieces I'm convinced my theory is correct. That means you're not safe," he replied. "Please get your locks changed this afternoon."
"I should have done that already. I didn't even think of it. Thank goodness they didn't come back."
"You've been under a great deal of stress, and I suspect whoever it is has been waiting for the dust to settle."
"So you think they'll surface soon?"
"I'd bet on it, but I have an idea that will help both of us sleep better," he said confidently, silently adding, and might just help comfort your heart. "By the way, Steve found this," he said, holding up a small plastic bag.
"Is that the other part of that gold bar?"
"It looks like it. Hopefully it will bear fruit."
"Jonathan, thanks so much for everything."
"My pleasure, and there's Ben," he declared, seeing the police car through the living room window. "You have a nice afternoon."
"After I call the locksmith, I'm going back to take another look at all that stuff."
"Be careful. Make sure Ben knows where you are, and keep your phone with you at all times."
"I will."
She walked with him as he strode into the foyer and out the front door. As she closed it behind him, a painting fell off the wall.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Though the sharp sound made her jump, April was sure Troy had caused the painting to fall, but why? Walking over to it, she picked it up and studied the picture. It was a serene scene of a fisherman by the side of a river baiting his line. He was beneath a weeping willow tree, and a black and white dog was standing nearby, his nose in the air.
"This is one of my favorites. What are you trying to tell me?"
Studying the hook on the wall, then the cord at the back of the painting, she had to smile. The hook hadn't broken, and neither had the cord.
"Troy Hammond, you almost gave me a heart attack, but you're forgiven. I'm just so happy you're here. I need to figure out why you chose this one."
Lifting it over her head, she attempted to hang it when a knock interrupted her. Knowing it was Ben, still holding the picture she moved across the foyer and opened the door.
"Hello, Mrs. Hammond. I'll be patrolling the grounds. If you need me, just give me a ring."
"Thanks, Ben. Would you mind giving me a hand putting this back up?"
"Be happy to," he replied, staring down at the painting. "Man at Peace. I love that painting. It's the first time I've seen it in person."
"You know about art?"
"Not really. My mum owns the gift shop and she has prints of it. I think it's because it was done by a local painter who went to Paris and became famous."
"Fascinating."
"Here, give it to me. I'll put it up. I can't wait to tell her I've actually held it in my hands."
"Thanks, Ben, or should I call you constable."
"Whatever you like. Ben is fine."
He was tall, and putting the piece of art on its hook only took a minute, then stepping back, he stared at it, tilted his head to the side, and smiled.
"It's lovely, don't you think?"
"I do."
"Is there something about it that you find amusing?"
"I've seen this picture almost every day my whole life, and it always makes me wish I was doing exactly that. Sitting on a river bank with a fishing line, and a dog at my side. How did it fall?"
"It didn't," she said quickly. "I found it lying against the wall. I think one of the men from forensics must have taken it down for some reason."
"Then they should have put it back up."
"They were very busy. I'm sure it just slipped their mind. Would you like a cup of tea, or water, or anything before you start your patrolling?"
"No, thank you. Maybe later. The detective asked me to check the fencing around the perimeter and make sure it's not compromised."
"Compromised how?"
"It's covered in that prickly brush which makes it difficult to climb. He wants me to make sure it hasn't been cut away anywhere. Let me give you my mobile number. I might not be able to hear you if you call out."
"Good idea, though I'm sure nothing will happen. Your car wil
l keep away the bad guys."
"Just in case," he said, lifting his phone from his breast pocket.
They exchanged numbers, and as he strode out the front door April felt reassured. Having a police presence, even if it was just a young constable, was comforting. The thought reminded her to check on the guest room, and moving down the hall, she opened the first door past the library. With everything in order, she walked out, closing the door behind her.
"Time to go exploring," she muttered. "Do I need anything? Yes. I'll take Troy's torch just in case. Torch. I said torch, not flashlight. It must be all that tea. It's turning me British."
Heading to the hall closet, she found it on the top shelf, then headed to the conservatory. It had French Doors that led into the backyard. The side of the house was just a few steps away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Back in Jonathan's office, D.C. Peter Shoebridge and D.C. Mary Harper were giving Jonathan their reports on the Hammond family in London, and the locals who had access to Hammond Hall.
The Hammonds lived a stereotypical upper-class life. Troy's mother was a philanthropist, Troy's brother, Charles, worked in the financial district, but Troy's sister, Sylvie, owned a gallery in Soho. From his years in the Met, Jonathan knew galleries were sometimes involved in moving stolen art.
Ned and his nephew George also raised a red flag. Ned had a criminal history, and while his offenses had been petty, they pointed to his dishonest streak. Given he had been born in the village, and he'd been the caretaker at Hammond Hall for decades, it was possible he had knowledge of the secret room filled with treasures.
His nephew George had run off to London shortly after the death of his father, Ned's brother. He'd lived there for only a short time, but had been in constant trouble. Ned had hauled him back to the village, and it seemed he had settled down, but Jonathan thought they made likely suspects.
"Good work," Jonathan said approvingly. "If Troy's death was the result of a burglary that went bad and Sylvie was behind it, whoever she hired will probably be in the London underworld. I still have contacts. I'll make some calls. Ned and George seem likely, but do they know the right people to move such high-end merchandise?"
Loved From The Grave Page 5
