“I see.”
“The coroner ruled suicide, Ms. Sykes. A few weeks later, the will was read, and what Nina said at the reading was that she wanted to be gone before the new owner arrived. That a chapter in her life had closed, and to stay at Loftus Manor would only make her sad.” He hesitated before he added. “I could never get a good sense of what Nina was all about. She was a pretty woman, and living here, so isolated, must have been hard for her.”
“And yet she did it willingly.”
“True. And just so you know, I’m planning to leave too. I don’t want you to feel you’re going to have to push me out. My bond was with Samuel, not the cottage, though I love living here. You have plans and should have a clean slate to put them into action. I don’t believe Samuel would approve of turning the manor into an inn, but as I understood the will, the place is yours and there are no restrictions on what you do with it and I really do understand financial necessity.” He’d given it some thought. Some hard thought. “An inn is far better than a subdivision, which was his worst fear.”
Tommie swallowed. “I wondered if perhaps he left the cottage to you. He seemed very fond of you.”
“You’ve probably read the terms of the will, so you know I received some cash, but the property is yours without encumbrance.” He forced a smile. “I wouldn’t want to hamper you in any way.”
“Please don’t be in a rush to leave.”
He was surprised by her request. He’d anticipated that she would be eager to see the backside of him.
“It’s a very big house, and it’s going to take some adjusting to. It’s nice to know there’s someone else on the property. We are a bit isolated.”
“That’s true.”
“And I’d like to talk to you about Uncle Samuel and the house. I do have plans, but I want to always consider what he would have done. You’re the only person who really spent any time with him. Maybe you can give me a glimpse of what he would think.”
He nodded. “I can stay as long as you need me.”
“Thank you.” Her hands were balled into fists, and she squeezed and released them repeatedly. “Is Loftus Manor haunted?”
He couldn’t help himself. He laughed out loud. “So you’ve heard the stories. You should know that your uncle was behind a lot of the stories about hauntings. He’d make up some fancy and then go to town to tell it to someone. He enjoyed that very much.”
He was happy to see that Tommie laughed. “He sounds like so much fun.”
Harley matched her smile with one of his own. “He could be. He was a real devil for pranks and mischief. Sometimes I thought he’d gone too far and Nina would quit, but he always talked her into forgiving him. He got me more than once, too, with some of his foolishness.”
The sadness slipped over her features, and he was aware he’d told her something that made her miss a man she’d never known. He had some fun stories about her uncle he’d share with her, something to give her a sense of the man.
“Did you ever see a ghost here at Loftus Manor?” Tommie asked Harley.
“I have. I can’t swear it was a ghost, but I’ve seen some strange things in the house and around the grounds here.” He thought of the person—or the entity—he’d seen in the window. He’d been on the property for five years and he’d often had the sense someone was in the house or watching him, but he’d never really seen anyone. Until recently. Was the spirit of Samuel Loftus lingering in the manor?
Harley picked up the ax. “I’m happy to talk to you, but right now, I’m going to finish splitting this wood for you and taking it to the woodshed behind the house.”
“I’ll help,” Tommie said. “I need to learn my way around.”
Harley shrugged. He hadn’t anticipated this move, but he found he didn’t mind Tommie’s company as much as he’d thought he would. When he loaded the farm wagon with the wood, she helped, working steadily beside him. As he began to pull the wagon around the back of the manor, he noticed the black cat sitting on the front steps watching them.
“You have a cat?” he asked.
“Temporarily. Tammy Lynn left Trouble here to watch over me.” She laughed softly. “The cat is some kind of detective, or so she claims. To be honest, I’m glad he’s staying a day or two. Until I get used to the house.”
“Not a bad plan at all,” Harley said. “I like cats. They’re smart and independent and very clever. If I had to pick an animal to be a detective, it would be a cat. They see everything and owe their allegiance to no one.”
“Are there mysteries to solve at Loftus Manor?”
Harley hesitated. “I don’t know. I will tell you that I’m not completely sold on the idea that Samuel killed himself.”
He felt her hand on his arm and he stopped to face her.
“Do you think my uncle was murdered?”
“I don’t know what I think,” he said. “But I wasn’t satisfied that he harmed himself. Let me put it that way.”
“The coroner’s report said it was a self-inflicted injury.”
“I know. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see a copy of the report.” He could see his request startled her, but she didn’t balk.
“I’ll ask the attorney for one. I’m meeting with Mr. Gordon tomorrow. I was told that some real estate developer also wants to talk with me.”
“Paul Rider?” Samuel was instantly on the alert.
“Yes, do you know him?” She walked beside him as he tugged the wood wagon. He glanced down at her—her head came only to his shoulder—and saw that her cheeks were red from exertion. She’d loaded her share of the wood. She wasn’t a slacker. He realized that he had developed a tiny little grain of admiration for her, a woman coming to a rural area where she knew no one to start a new life.
“I’ve met Mr. Rider. He came out to talk to your uncle a couple of times, but Samuel ran him off. He didn’t want to turn Loftus Manor into a private club with a housing development on the land.”
They arrived at the woodshed before Tommie answered. “The lawyer, Mr. Gordon, set up the meeting. I’ll hear him out, but I’m not interested in selling the manor. At least not right now.”
Harley couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. “I’m really glad to hear that. It’s yours to do with as you please, but I know your uncle would be happy with your decision.” Harley felt a sudden protectiveness, but he wasn’t certain if it was for Tommie or for the old manor house. “I know you can’t make any promises right now, but I’m glad to see you’re going to try to keep the property intact.”
“I am. I’m excited to see if I can make a go of it.” She drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “It’s intimidating, and I’m scared. But I’m going to try.”
Chapter Five
Tommie dusted her hands together when they’d finished unloading the wood. She had a sense of satisfaction, though Harley had done all of the hard work gathering and splitting the oak. But the woodshed, which was spacious and well maintained, was nearly full now. She’d have plenty to burn through the winter, even if she had guests using fireplaces. Harley didn’t halfway do a chore, he did it one hundred percent. He’d promised Samuel to fill the woodshed and full it would be.
The sun had dropped below the tree line, and the day was drawing to a close. Tommie looked up at Loftus Manor, an imposing stone building. She hadn’t noticed the gargoyle water spouts near the roofline and she felt a shudder. Those gnarled and twisted creatures weren’t her personal choice of décor, but she had some half-buried memories that the grotesques were supposed to be protectors of a place.
“Would you like me to start a fire for you?” Harley asked as they walked to the back door of the manor.
Tommie hesitated. “That would be helpful. It’s been a while since I lived in a house with a fireplace.”
Harley opened the backdoor and held it for her to enter. “Will you be staying in one of the parlors or the library or one of the bedrooms?” he asked.
“The little parl
or that I think is called the morning room.” It was the place that gave her the most comfort. The vastness of the library was too much, and Samuel’s private study held memories, and she wasn’t ready to go to bed.
“Samuel often worked in that room. The light in the morning is beautiful there.”
“What did my uncle do for work?” Tommie really wanted to know more about Samuel. Each little tidbit was like a gift.
“He had some investments, and he corresponded with several people. He didn’t have any use for computers and the internet. He did it the old-fashioned way and often asked me to take the letters to town to post.”
They walked through the house and when they stepped into the morning room, Harley went to work lighting the fire. The logs were already set, indicating that this was a room her uncle used frequently. A store of wood was stacked in a brass rack beside the fireplace.
“Did he keep any of the letters he got as replies?” Tommie had a sudden image of curling up in front of the fire with her uncle’s correspondence, learning about him through the letters he’d received. It would be like a step back in time, exploring a part of her family she knew little about.
Her mother had been her link to the Loftus name, but Florence Loftus Sykes had died when Tommie was only eight. She remembered her mother, but when her father remarried and Dee had become her stepmother, the Loftus connection had simply slipped away. There’d been no malevolent design or intention, it was just a natural progression. She’d grown up among her father’s people, the Sykes, and Dee’s family, the Hearndons. There’d been no one to tell her the stories and history of the Loftus side.
“I don’t know if he kept his correspondence or not,” Harley said. “I mailed his letters, and I brought the mail up to the house from the box at the road. I don’t really know what he did with any of it. He was a regular correspondent with several people, though.”
“I hope I can find some letters. Just a glimpse into who my uncle was, what he cared about. What interested him.” She sighed. “I must sound pathetic to you.”
Harley’s hand lifted for a moment but dropped back to his side. “Not at all. Family is everything. You learn that quickly enough when you’ve lost it. I hope you find things around here that will give you what you need. And don’t forget the library. There may be some history of interest to you. I do know the Loftus name is Anglo-Saxon and it means a house with a loft or attic. It’s a location name that dates back to the 7th Century. Samuel told me this, and he explained that when Loftus Manor was built, the architect had drawn the house with two floors. The Loftus in charge at the time, Rupert I believe, insisted on adding the attic, to honor the family name.”
“Thank you for telling me that. I have a lot of study to do on my Loftus family connections, but I’m looking forward to it. I only wish I’d known about Samuel and had a chance to talk to him before he….” She looked away for a moment. “It’s so sad that he was alone when he died.”
She felt Harley’s warm hand on her shoulder. “Samuel didn’t strike me as a lonely man. His body was frail, but his mind was lively, and he followed a number of pursuits. I can’t explain the hanging, but I’d like to look into some things, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to offend you or overstep your comfort zone.”
Tommie was surprised at Harley’s perceptive reading of her. And she was also unprepared for the rush of gratitude she felt toward him. “I’d like to help you look into Samuel’s death. Suicide is a choice some people make, and I can respect that. It’s not that I want to invalidate his choice. I just want to be sure that’s exactly what happened.”
Harley extended his hand. “Deal?”
She put her palm against his, tightened her fingers, and shook. “Deal.”
“Now I’ll be going back to the cottage.” He brought a business card from his pocket. “My number. Call me if you…see anything unusual.” His clear gaze held hers for just a second longer than necessary.
“I will.” She tucked the card in her jeans pocket.
“Cell phone reception isn’t always great here,” he warned her. “I don’t know if the landline is still connected. If it isn’t, you might look into getting one installed.”
“Good advice.” The last of the twilight was fleeing fast, a lavender overtone in the west. Full night was dropping around them like a curtain. She walked out on the porch with him to say goodnight and was struck by the beauty of the stars so much brighter than she’d seen in the big cities of California.
“I’ll be off then.” Harley went down the steps but turned back to face her.
“Tomorrow would you mind walking with me to the river?” she asked.
“I’d be glad to. I need to be sure the path is clear. Sometimes in the fall, dead limbs and things drop and I can point out to you some of the treacherous areas.”
“At nine?”
“I’ll meet you here on the porch.” He turned and stepped into the night. She watched him for a moment before the darkness swallowed him.
Loftus Manor was isolated. There wasn’t a light anywhere on the horizon. For a moment she felt as if she’d fallen into a void, but then she felt the pressure of the cat rubbing against her leg.
“Thank heavens you’re here.” She bent down and picked him up. She was really glad for the cat’s company. As she was walking back to the parlor where the blazing fire had taken the chill off the room, she heard something on the second floor.
The cat stiffened in her arms and then leaped to the floor. Before she could do anything, he was sprinting up the stairs to the second floor. She only hesitated a second before she followed him.
* * *
There’s clearly someone loose in this house. I’m not imagining it, and neither is my Loftus Lass. My dad always made up nicknames for the damsels in distress he helped. I’ll give it a try here, since the alliteration works so well.
I wish Tommie hadn’t been so quick to dismiss the burly woodchopper. Wasn’t it an ax-wielder who saved Little Red Riding Hood? And her grandmother? Honestly, I’d give a lot to have Harley and his ax sprinting up here beside me. To quote one of the wisest feline figures in literature, the Cowardly Lion, “I do believe in ghosts. I do believe in ghosts.”
There’s a scraping sound coming from the bedroom once used by Nina Ahearn. As if someone is pushing a piece of furniture. I see Tommie has followed me up here. She’s scared, but she isn’t going to duck out on me. That’s good to know. I just don’t know how effective she’d be in a fight. She’s a little on the slender side. Then again, my very own Tammy Lynn is quite the scrapper though she doesn’t look the part.
I move silently down the hallway toward the bedroom door. The Loftus Lass is following me, though she doesn’t have the finely-honed skills of walking without making a sound that I have. I flick my tail at her to urge more caution.
When I get to the bedroom, I listen again. Now there is only silence from within the room. How is that possible?
Tommie slowly turns the doorknob and pushes the door. We step into the room, which is filled with velvety blackness. Tommie hits the light switch, and we step back in alarm. Someone has ransacked the room. Drawers are pulled from the dresser, the bed is torn apart, the knickknacks set on the bedside table are on the floor.
“Who did this?” Tommie asks.
I don’t have an answer for her, but I intend to find out. Of more importance, where did the intruder go? He, or she, was up here in this room. We both heard the noise. We were in the hallway almost instantaneously, so the intruder didn’t leave by that exit. So how did he make his escape? The only possible answer is that our intruder is not of the flesh. Only a spirit could fade into stone walls and disappear. A little shiver runs down to the tip of my tail.
I check under the bed, in the closets, behind the drapes—nothing. I even jump on the mantle to see if I can trigger a secret panel. Tommie catches on to what I’m doing and moves beside me to press on the ornate woodwork of scrolls and carvings, hunting for a secret trigger. Nothing
.
“Where the hell is the person who did this?” Tommie said out loud. “I won’t be terrorized in my own home.”
I notice the spots of red in her cheeks and the defiance in her eyes. She’s a slip of a girl but she’s more gristle than tenderloin. Good!
“Whoever was in here has to be around. I’m sick of this. Come on, Trouble. Let’s find him.”
But this isn’t something she should tackle without a weapon. I snag the leg of her pants with my sharp claws and stop her from charging down the hallway. She’s frankly amazed by my action, but she’s smart enough to understand I want something.
I use my paw to pat the pocket of her jacket where she stashed Harley’s phone number.
She reaches into the pocket, finds the card, and pulls it out. Doubt crosses her face, but I extend my claws just a little, to get her attention, then pat her other pocket where her phone is.
“You think I should call Harley Jones?”
That’s right, little lassie. Dial that cell phone or knock him up or whatever it takes to get him down here to help search.”
She’s doing it. There she goes. And she’s asking him to come back. Good plan. I can only hope that Harley will convince her to call the police. Super sleuth that I am, this needs to be reported.
Chapter Six
Harley looked at the room and whistled. Someone had deliberately created havoc. “Looks like they were after something.” He lifted the mattress that had been flung to the floor and put it back on the springs. “Or else it’s someone who intends to upset you, make you afraid.”
“I came to the same conclusion,” Tommie said. She offered a wary smile. “The cat insisted I call you. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
Harley’s brows arched in surprise at her comment.
Trouble Restored Page 4
