She wandered over to her uncle’s portrait. He didn’t look like a man who would kill himself in a moment of depression or loneliness. There was steel in his gaze, determination. And he’d been alone in the house for many years since the death of his wife, Rachel. The little bit of research Tommie had done, supplemented by what the lawyer was able to tell her, indicated that Samuel and Rachel had been childless.
The couple had taken up residence in the house in the 1970s, and while they’d entertained on holidays, they mostly lived quietly. As far as Tommie could tell, they’d never really developed close friendships in the town or region, though Samuel was a contributor to several charities centered around education. Rachel had financially supported some arts programs and donated to a literacy program at Draper State Prison in nearby Elmore. Other than that, the lawyer had little information for Tommie.
Tommie pulled some of the throw sheets off a beautiful brocade sofa, club chairs, and end tables built with grace and strength. She wondered if Rachel, who’d died in 1999, had decorated the house or if Samuel had hired someone.
Loftus Manor had some incredible details and beauty, but it was also an unwelcoming place. She’d have to change that if she intended to make a go of an inn, and she had some ideas.
She looked up at the portrait of her relative. “I’ll do my best, Samuel. I’ll have to change some things. I hope you don’t mind.”
She checked her watch. The Evanses would be at least another hour out. She could unpack her bag and haul her belongings, an armload at a time, up the stairs to one of the second-floor bedrooms or she could take a walk around the grounds. She admitted she was curious to see how well Harley Jones did his reputed job of groundskeeper.
Physically, he was an impressive guy. Tall, fit, confident, he’d had no trouble offering his advice or opinion. She wasn’t normally a suspicious person, but she’d caught a hint of proprietary emotion in his behavior. She reluctantly accepted that it was also possible she was super sensitive because she felt like an outsider coming to town to benefit from the death of a man she’d never met.
Deciding to split the difference between unpacking and exploring, she hauled underwear and shirts up to her bedroom. When she’d lightened the suitcase some, she checked her watch. She still had time for a quick look at the Coosa and the beautiful October day was made for a person to be outside.
She grabbed some old jeans, a sweatshirt, and hiking boots, changed quickly, and slipped out the back door. Her cell phone had a compass, and she knew the general direction of the river, but as it turned out, she easily found a path that led in that direction. The going was a little hilly, but the trail was clear. She’d have plenty of time to scope out the river and get back.
When she made it to the edge of the woods, she turned back for a glimpse of Loftus Manor. The stone edifice peeked through the trees, almost an image of a fairy tale castle. The house was beautifully proportioned, gracious and mysterious. She lingered a moment, drinking in the beauty of this place—her home now! It was almost too much to take in.
She shifted her weight back on to her heels, turned, and stopped. Someone stood in an upstairs window. Her heart pulsed, giving her a feeling of lightheadedness. The leaves on the tree branches danced in a light breeze right in front of her eyes, blocking the house. Stepping forward, out of the trees, she stared up at the window which now was empty and blank.
“I saw it.” She spoke aloud to give herself confidence. “I saw someone up there.”
Plans to visit the river disappeared. She started back toward the house at a jog. Whoever was in her house, she was going to find them and have them arrested for trespassing. She’d been warned by her uncle’s lawyer that Harley Jones might somehow feel he had a grubstake in the groundskeeper’s cottage, and that Nina Ahearn had been adamant that Samuel had intended to leave her the right to live in the manor as long as she wished. Legally, neither of those claims would ever hold up. But someone was in the house, and that someone had no right to be there.
She covered the wide expanse of lawn and used her key to open the front door, which was still locked, as she’d left it. Which meant the intruder had come in the back door. She rushed to the kitchen entrance to find it also locked, as were the double doors leading to the patio and garden and the back exit that had once been used by servants.
There was no sign of a forced entry. Which could only mean the intruder had come in through a window—or had a key. She had a choice. She could check the windows or go upstairs and search for whoever was in the house.
She picked up a poker from the fireplace and started up the stairs, moving as quietly as she could. She didn’t want a real confrontation, only to scare the intruder out of the house and to possibly get a good look at him so she could describe them to the authorities.
When she made it to the top of the stairs, she paused to listen. The old house creaked and sighed in the October wind, but she didn’t hear footsteps or anything that would indicate a human presence. Yet she’d seen someone in that window. A torso, arms, and a head—she’d seen that clearly.
Had the intruder had time to escape?
It was possible if he’d realized he’d been spotted. But Tommie knew she’d been almost hidden by the trees. She eased down the hallway trying to breathe deeply yet silently. She held the poker in one hand, raised and ready to swing if necessary.
All the bedroom doors were closed and though she listened at each one, she didn’t hear anything. She made her way to the end of the hallway and stopped. This was her bedroom, the large suite at the end of the hall that included a small sitting room, a bedroom, a full bath, and a spacious closet. Because it was on the end of the hall, there were abundant windows and light. Why would someone be in her room? She’d only moved up a few of her personal clothes. The bulk of her belongings hadn’t arrived from California yet, so there was nothing to plunder in her personal possessions.
She made it to the door and put her hand on the handle. To her utter horror, the doorknob began to turn, of its own volition, beneath her hand. She pushed the door open, leaped backwards, and tripped on a hall runner. As she fell, a wild scream tore from her throat.
Below her she heard the front door crash open and the sound of pounding feet on the stairs. She looked into the open bedroom and saw absolutely nothing. The sitting room was empty. As far as she could tell, so was the bedroom beyond.
Running footsteps vibrated behind her and she turned to see Harley Jones racing toward her, his face grim with tension.
“Are you okay?” He knelt beside her, feeling her arms and legs for broken bones. “What happened?”
“Someone was in my room. I reached for the doorknob and it twisted under my hand. Someone was on the other side of the door, turning it.”
His worried eyes raked over her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and slowly started to her feet. He grabbed her arm and gave her a lift, as if she weighed nothing. He was a powerful man.
“Stay here,” he ordered before he headed into her rooms, leaving her to stand in the hallway as if she were a child.
The minute she got her muscles to respond to her command, she went right after him. She was grateful he’d arrived, but she didn’t need a white knight to the rescue. She’d been looking after herself for a long time.
She found him at the very window where she’d seen movement. He was looking down at the ground below. When she stepped beside him, he eased over to give her room.
“Company’s coming,” he said, nodding down the driveway where a Mercedes sedan was passing the groundskeeper’s cottage. He shook the curtain back into place.
“That’s the renovation team,” Tommie said. “They’re coming to look at the manor to see about helping me make some repairs and change it into an inn.”
“An inn? Like a place where people stay overnight?”
She gave him a curious look. “Exactly like that. I think it’s a perfect property. We can do some kayaking on the river, build some
nature trails through the woods, create a real destination place for people who love the outdoors.”
“You can’t do that.” Harley was firm. “You can’t turn this into a commercial business. Samuel would hate that.”
At first, she was taken aback at the passion of his response, but then Tommie’s temper hit high. “I am doing it. And you have no say-so at all in how I manage this property. In case you didn’t get the word, I inherited. I have complete and total say-so.”
“And you should respect the wishes of the man who left you this gift.” Harley’s gaze was unflinching.
“If Samuel had been so concerned about what happened to Loftus Manor, perhaps he should have left me a game plan and money to fund it. Right now, I own a huge old house that needs repairs and renovations. That’s a liability. Unless I can turn it around and make a way to generate a living here, I’ll have to sell it. Wonder what will happen then? Maybe a new subdivision for the elite?”
Her last remark hit home, and she saw Harley blanch. Good, she thought with satisfaction. How dare he tell her what she could and couldn’t do with her inheritance. And he was acting like she intended to turn Loftus Manor into a brothel or some such unsavory establishment. The man had a real attitude, and she wondered if it was because she was a single woman. Some men had issues with women who took charge and made changes. She’d learned that hard lesson via experience. Obviously, Harley Jones thought he had some say in what happened to Loftus Manor. He was wrong!
Harley brushed past her, but then stopped, visibly collected himself, and turned back. He took a deep breath and blew it out before he spoke. “You’re right. I apologize. I was thinking about what Samuel would want and not the practicality of what you might need to do. Loftus Manor does need a lot of work and unless you have a lot of money, the place will fall into ruin. I’m sorry I spoke out of turn.”
Loud knocking on the front door made Harley turn away.
Before she could answer, Harley moved rapidly down the stairs and opened the front door to Tammy Lynn. A black cat that looked like the one she’d seen at the bookstore shot inside the manor and headed up the stairs. The cat darted past Tommie and disappeared in her room. Tommie shook her head as she trotted down the stairs to greet her guests. She didn’t have time to search for the cat or even assimilate Harley’s unexpected apology. She had to focus on one thing and one thing only. The success of her project relied on her ability to get the dynamic renovation duo on board with her remodeling concept.
“Welcome! Thank you for coming,” she said.
“Harley, it’s good to see you,” Tammy said to the groundskeeper. “Let me introduce Katie and Hank Evans. They’re with the renovation show on HGTV. I’m sure you’ve heard the commotion all over town. They’re working on a number of Wetumpka historical home and business sites.”
“The whole town is talking about the make-over TV show and how wonderful you two are,” Harley said. “Your work speaks for itself.” He glanced over at Tommie. “I’m a stick in the mud, but change is inevitable, I suppose. I’ll leave you to your renovation plans and I’d better head back to the cottage. I’ve got some gardening to do. If you’d like to look around inside the cottage, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”
Tommie watched Harley walk down the driveway with a sense of relief. He’d been closer to her uncle than anyone else she knew, and for some reason it was important to her that he understand her circumstances and approve of her plans for the manor.
She realized her guests were waiting at the door. “Come in,” Tommie said. “Why don’t I give you a tour? In the process, maybe we’ll find that cat that ran upstairs. If he gets lost in this house, we might not find him for weeks.”
“That’s my cat,” Tammy said. “His name is Trouble. He’s something of a detective.” She smiled so that Tommie didn’t know if she was teasing her or not.
“A detective cat?”
“It’s a long story,” Tammy said. “I think it’s best to let Trouble show you what he can do. He’s solved a number of crimes. And don’t worry about him. He can take care of himself—and he may surprise you with some of the things he finds.”
Tommie laughed. “Really?” Had she fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole? Was the whole town of Wetumpka a little mad? First Harley, doing such a one-eighty, and now the bookstore owner with a black cat detective.
“Absolutely,” Tammy said. “In fact, when we left the store to come here, Trouble insisted on coming with us. It was almost like he knew there was a crime to solve at the end of the journey. He has an uncanny sense about these things. And now,” she shrugged, “he’s off poking around the house. Is there a mystery here?”
The first thing that came to Tommie’s mind was the shadowy figure she’d seen in her bedroom window, but she didn’t want to go there, not when she so desperately needed the renovators to agree to the project. “The only mystery here is why my uncle left this beautiful place to me.” Tommie was still a little shocked at her inheritance and all that it meant.
Tammy put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know you at all, but the fact that you’ve already come up with a plan on how to keep Loftus Manor tells me exactly why Samuel left the property to you. He knew you’d love and take care of the estate. Even Harley didn’t kick up too much fuss,” Tammy said with a knowing grin. “We all know Harley is a little gruff and abrasive, but I think he’s a good guy. He cared a lot about Samuel. I guess living here for a while, he cares about this place too.”
“I wouldn’t want to do anything to displease my uncle, but I have to be able to make the property pay for the upkeep and care.” Tommie wanted everyone to be clear about the future—Loftus Manor had to pay its own way.
“We understand,” Tammy said, “and I’m sure Samuel does too. If his ghost is here, haunting the estate along with all the other ghosts he loved talking about, I’m sure he’ll let you know if your plans displease him.”
Tommie stepped back before she could stop herself. The one thing she really didn’t want in her life was a disapproving ghost.
Chapter Three
Watching Tommie’s reaction to my mistress’s teasing remark tells me that our host is a bit unnerved. Something is going on at Loftus Manor. I knew it! And I suspect that Harley Jones, our erstwhile groundskeeper, is aware of something too. That’s why I’ve rushed to the windows on the south side of the house. He’s walking into the woods right now, and he seems to have something on his mind. My Sherlockian sixth sense is tingling. The tosser is up to something, and I need to find out what.
He’s poking around in some shrubbery as if he’s looking for something. I wonder if he’s dropped something or if he’s looking for evidence like footprints.
I have to figure out a way to convince my humanoid to allow me to stay here in Loftus Manor for the night. Or maybe two. There’s something going on that isn’t quite right. There was tension between Tommie Sykes, who I shall dub the Lofton Lass, and the brawny groundskeeper. And not the good kind of tension between a man and a woman, but something more than that. She looks absolutely panicky, though she’s covering it very well. If he was unchivalrous toward her, he will pay!
Now spying on him from my window perch, he seems as unsettled as Tommie. He’s examining some branches and scouring the ground. I believe he’s looking for evidence of an intruder. Now that’s an interesting thought. I’ll snoop around later, but right now I want to listen to the conversation among the bipeds. I’ll gather what facts I can.
* * *
Harley held the tattered leaves in his hand. The branches of the lilac were definitely snapped. Someone had gone that way, and it wasn’t the heiress. She’d been on the trail to the river, not hidden in foliage. This was evidence of someone else. He thought back through the sequence of events.
He’d seen Tommie looking back at the house with concentration. Suddenly she was tearing across the lawn and she rushed inside. Curious, he’d walked up the drive and was standing at the front door, which was luckily o
pen, when he heard her scream. That’s when he’d hurried inside to help her. When he’d seen her stretched out on the hall runner, he’d been afraid she was injured. Thank goodness she’d only fallen backwards. He’d quickly scanned the bedroom and parlor and saw nothing out of order. If someone had been in there, they’d found a good hiding place. But how had they managed to twist the doorknob and then make an escape with the Sykes woman in the hall—which was the only means of exit.
It was impossible. How had a person managed to get out of the manor and into the edge of the woods so quickly? If this intruder was even real. Which made him wonder how long Tommie would stay in the manor alone if she was prone to spooks and fancies. Loftus Manor was big and old and there were plenty of tales about the house. It had been empty for years before Samuel and his wife Rachel had moved there and brought it back to life. Old, abandoned houses—or houses with a reclusive bachelor resident for that matter—often spawned ghost stories and legends, and Loftus House was very attractive to the teenagers of the area who loved to sneak onto the property, especially at Halloween, to search for ghost and ghoulies. If Tommie Sykes was scared, her life was going to be miserable, and that, more than any other reason, was why he’d softened his objection to any changes she might make on the property. She’d made a good point when she’d said the manor had to pay its own way.
Harley checked the ground for footprints, but it hadn’t rained in several days and the soil was hard and dry. If someone had been there, watching the house, he couldn’t tell for certain. Then why wouldn’t the nagging sensation of danger go away? Harley walked deeper into the woods but found nothing else he could label as physical evidence. What he had discovered was too nebulous. The broken branches and tattered leaves could be as simple as an animal passing through the property.
The one thing he didn’t want was a sense of responsibility for the new owner of Loftus Manor. Tommie Sykes was brave and foolish. She’d come across country with no idea how she’d live or manage. Women were often more trouble than anything else and this one clearly had a lot to learn about her inheritance, her family, and the Wetumpka area. Loftus Manor was one of the rare ancestral homes in the Southeastern portion of the United States. It had been built when Alabama was little more than a backwater. The floorplan of the house had been brought over with the Loftus settlers and reflected the grand design of Anglo-Saxon landholders. Samuel had been so proud of the house and of his family name. As far as Harley could tell, Tommie was unaware of all that Loftus Manor had symbolized for Samuel. Truthfully, now that Samuel was gone, maybe none of it mattered.
Trouble Restored Page 2
