“The place to start is the internet.” He gathered up the blanket and wine bottle while she grabbed the glasses. Trouble, who’d been asleep in the sun, yawned and gave them a friendly meow as he started on the trail home.
“He knows where we’re going,” Harley said, amused and amazed. “He is uncanny.”
“Too bad he can’t get us a DNA sample of Odell Rains.”
Trouble stopped and looked back at them. He gave a loud meow.
“I wouldn’t be so sure he can’t,” Harley said. “Maybe you should invite Odell over for a chat.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking of doing,” Tommie said.
* * *
I think a sit down with the alleged daughter is an excellent idea. Perhaps she’ll reveal far more than she intends. A DNA sample is easily within my abilities. Never underestimate a black cat trained by the inimitable Sherlock Holmes. Cumberbatch, in his portrayal of the master detective, is brilliant. Think how much easier it would be to help the bipeds if I could have those pop-up little thought bubbles that Benedict has at his disposal on film. They’d be able to follow my brilliant deductions. The Loftus Lass and Mr. Brawny seem bright for all that they’re human, but if they could truly comprehend my thoughts, it would surely speed things up.
I’m eager for the renovation team to arrive. I’ll have to insist that Hank examine the walls of the upstairs bedrooms for hidden rooms or passages. Someone is slipping around the house—of that I have no doubt. The perfume is a hint, but it seems almost too deliberate. Two women show up claiming that they’re rightful heirs. Both women wear strong scents. Nina Ahearn’s old bedroom also contains a strong perfume at times. Call me a skeptic, but this is too coincidental to be an accident. The problem is that I don’t see how perfume could play into false claims on property. The clues haven’t revealed themselves, but I am alert and watching.
I trust that Harley will keep a close eye on Tommie. She truly has no one else but me to safeguard her. Now the riddle of what’s happening in this old pile must be resolved and soon. I can’t be certain that the noises and smells and movement of objects are not part of the alleged daughter/wife scam that is currently underway. It’s like a loose thread—pull it a little and all may unravel.
Now I’ll saunter along with Tommie and Harley to the lodge to see the marvels of the internet. Yes, as we approach, I see a satellite dish. A communication link to the outside world, as it were. Time to poke into the true story of Loftus Manor.
Chapter Fourteen
Harley installed Tommie at the kitchen table in his cottage. In a minute he had coffee going and his laptop powering up. He kept glancing at her, drinking in the way the sunlight filtered through the kitchen window to ignite the highlights in her hair. She was a beautiful woman, but better than that she was a good person. She had values and a sense of right and wrong, and to Harley that was important. After the harsh experience of war, when the only thing standing between him and death was the honor and bravery of his comrades, he’d come to understand how important a person’s moral code was.
The group of Rangers he’d gone into Afghanistan with had been a tight, cohesive unit of soldiers who lived by a code. He’d watched too many of them die. One of his buddies, Stephen, had died protecting Harley from a sniper’s bullet. It was a moment in time that haunted him in the dark hours of the morning. And when he’d come home, he’d learned that few civilians understood the meaning of living by a code. He’d been disillusioned with his country and the citizens who lived there. That’s when he’d lucked into the job of groundskeeper at Loftus Manor.
“Harley, thank you for being with me today.” Tommie turned in her chair and put a hand on his lower arm. “I don’t know why you’re so determined to help me, but I appreciate it. It means a lot to me to have your support.”
“I want you to have a fair shake. Samuel left the manor to you. I want to see his wishes carried out.”
“Even if I have to turn the manor into an inn? I know you don’t really want it changed.”
He sat down across from her while the coffee brewed. “I don’t want it changed, because I think Samuel would want it to stay as is. And I have a personal aversion to change.” His smile was sad. “I’ve grown comfortable here, Tommie. But that isn’t your problem. You have to make this arrangement work for you, and I understand economic needs. The bottom line is what happens to Loftus Manor isn’t up to me. That’s for you to decide and I believe Samuel left it to you without any restrictions. It’s one last thing I can do for my old friend and now my new friend.”
Tommie pondered his words. “You’re a good man, Harley. My uncle was lucky to call you friend, and so am I.” His hand covered hers and he gave a little squeeze. And he held on a little longer than was necessary. It was only a fraction of a second, but Tommie felt it all the way through her body. “I think the coffee’s ready.” She had to break the connection.
Harley withdrew his hand and turned to the range to pour them two cups of strong black coffee. When she took her cup, Tommie’s gaze met his. She saw an openness that she’d never expected to see. Harley Jones was slowly lowering his guard with her. And she could feel the same happening with her.
“How do you have internet but the manor doesn’t?” she finally asked.
“There’s a satellite behind the lodge. I offered to help Samuel set up an internet connection, but he never wanted internet or cell phones or any of the newfangled devices.” Harley grinned. “When he needed anything ordered, I could do it for him or Nina would drive him to town where the store owners obliged him. The truth is, too, that reception is spotty. And sometimes slow. Reliable rural broadband is still a dream for folks like us.”
“I understand. Once I get my jewelry business back up and running, I’ll need the internet to sell,” she explained. “And also to advertise the inn.” She felt her stomach flutter with nervousness at the idea of what lay before her. If she worked twenty hours a day, she’d still be behind.
“When will the Evans start work on the manor?” Harley asked.
“Very soon. Which is why I’m going to contact Odell Rains right now. I want to sit down with her and feel her out. If there’s a way to settle this amicably, I’ll definitely consider it.”
“You’d buy her out?” Harley asked.
“I would. If I had the money, which I don’t.” Tommie was aware that her attempted smile was a failure. “Money is nice to have, but what I have here at Loftus House is a dream, a lifestyle. I want to make it a reality, if I can afford it.”
“I don’t know if trying to compromise with Ms. Rains or Nina is the right path.” He held up a hand to stop her from a passionate reply. “I’m just saying think long and hard. Don’t make any offers today if we can find Ms. Rains.”
“You’re right.” This time her smile won out.
“Then let’s get busy and see what we can uncover.”
* * *
The nagging worry that Tommie was too kind and accommodating chewed at Harley as he went through the process of researching Odell Rains. While he searched for facts, what he mostly found was an absence of facts. Odell had no criminal record that he could find, not even unpaid parking tickets.
“She was born in Tennessee,” Tommie said. “Did Samuel ever go to Knoxville?”
Harley put his coffee cup down. “He made some trips there when I first moved in. He was stronger then. He said he was meeting a genealogist there for some help with the Loftus family tree.”
“You’re sure it was Knoxville?”
The problem was that Harley remembered the conversation perfectly now that his memory had been jogged. “It was Knoxville. But look, if that’s the case, Odell would have been at least eighteen, judging by her looks now, which I’d put at maybe twenty-three or so. He might have known Odell and her mother, but there’s no indication Odell is his child.”
“Thank you.” Tommie put her hand on his.
His impulse was to grasp her fingers and hold on, but he didn’t. Romantic gesture
s could be fraught with danger. Harley had fallen into the trap of caring for someone once. Caring deeply and believing in that woman. The truth of how wrong he’d been about Lyda, on top of his war experience, had almost driven him to desperation. He removed his hand and pointed to the computer screen. “Looks like Odell lived in Knoxville with her mother and sister.”
“I know it’s a long shot, but do you remember the name of the genealogist Samuel was visiting with?”
“No, but that’s where the records in his office might come in handy.”
Tommie looked around the kitchen. “Where’s Trouble?”
Harley realized the cat had followed them into the lodge, but he hadn’t seen the feline for quite some time. He did a quick examination of the compact building but there was no cat. “Maybe he went back to the manor.”
Tommie looked longingly at the computer. “I want to stay and research Odell more, but I should go look for Trouble. He isn’t my cat, and if something happened to him, I would feel terrible.”
Harley wasn’t about to let her go back to the manor by herself. “We can research later. Let’s find the cat.” He closed the computer and picked up his jacket. The day had been beautiful—perfect weather—but when the sun began to set, the chill would return.
When he held the door for her, she brushed against him going out and he again resisted the impulse to pick up her hand and hold it, to simply keep the physical connection. And that told him it was time for him to move on. Things were getting complicated here at Loftus Manor, and complications generally meant trouble. He’d help Tommie settle this business with the two grifters. He’d make sure she was safe and whoever was slipping into the house was caught and appropriately punished. He’d stay until the renovators were involved in the necessary changes. And then he would go—before he discovered he wanted to stay more than he should.
As they walked up the driveway to the manor, their shoes scrunching in the white oyster shells, Harley thought of the hard physical labor required to create the fine homes of the landed gentry. The oyster shells had been brought from Mobile Bay up the Alabama River and finally on the Coosa River. The shells were the first hard-packed “paving” available, and every big house had an oyster shell driveway.
The afternoon shadows of the trees slanted across their path, and Harley thought of the many times he’d walked up to the manor about this time of day to check on Samuel, to be sure he had his prescriptions or the necessary food for supper. Often, he’d find Nina in the kitchen, pots bubbling and the delicious aroma of a homecooked meal wafting through the manor. Samuel always invited him to stay for dinner, a drink, and a game of chess.
Tommie stopped so suddenly that he almost bumped into her. “What—” He saw it then. The front door was standing wide open. Trouble sat in the doorway licking a paw.
“What the hell?” Tommie said as she started running. “I know I locked the door.”
“I know you did too,” Harley said. He’d watched her lock it. He sprinted past her with raw determination to find whoever was in the house and make them pay. This had gone on long enough.
Chapter Fifteen
The cavalry arrives. At warp speed. Humans, standing upright and using only two legs, are not the best runners on the planet. They try, bless their hearts. They have none of the grace and agility of a feline who can emulate the wind. We’re also rather more stealthy. But comparisons aside, I’m happy to see these two.
I thought I might patrol the manor while Tommie and Harley were engaged in their computer work. A good thing, too, since I found the house open but empty of any other human. Someone has been here though, and they were in Samuel’s study. Were they looking for something or leaving something behind? There are elements of this case that make no sense at all. Take Nina’s marriage to Samuel. If it were real, why not make it evident before he died? She had to know that every person with half a brain would question the timing of her revelation. Indeed, if she was Samuel’s wife, why didn’t she say so and handle the funeral arrangements? As I understand it, Harley took care of the details for the service and burial, per Samuel’s instructions. But that is clearly the purview of a wife. Yet not a peep out of her.
I’m convinced this marriage is hog-wash, as we Southerners say. Benedict would be more erudite and call it illogical. In this instance, deep-fried hog wash works best. The question is, how to prove it or even better, push Nina into a confession. I know the bipeds are working on background information about the “instant” daughter and wife. Perhaps they will extract a lead that puts us on the path to disproving their claims.
Tommie and Harley are at the front steps. Let me lead the way to Samuel’s small study so they can assess if anything is missing. Harley will know more than the Loftus Lass, but it’s good for all of us to examine the circumstances.
They are both following me—as they should. The Loftus Lass and Mr. Brawny are more easily trained than most humanoids. Now as I jump on top of the built-in desk, I see some books that have been knocked askew. Good news that Harley is checking out the rest of the house to be sure our intruder has really gone. I’ve already had a look about, and there’s no one here, unless they’re hiding in the walls, which is not as far-fetched as it sounds.
Tommie is walking around the room, snapping photos with her cell phone. Grand idea. Document, document everything!
Harley returns with an all-clear. He found exactly what I found—nothing. He’s practically bubbling with aggravation. He’s scanned the room, and he hasn’t yet noticed what they need to see. I yowl to call attention to the bookcase above Samuel’s desk. When Tommie doesn’t act fast enough, I daintily use a claw to pull down an over-large edition. The book is old, the pages yellowed. Tommie carefully catches it before it can splat on the floor. She gives me a look of consternation, but her attention is instantly drawn to the pages of the book while Harley examines the room to see what else has been disturbed.
My work here is done—for the moment at least. I’m going upstairs to see if anything has been disturbed in the bedrooms. I gave a cursory examination, but now I have more time to truly inspect the upstairs area. And yes, the attic. I know, I know. Never go into the attic or the basement. But this isn’t a horror story. At least I hope not. I have much to explore. And to once again see if I can deduce how our unwanted visitor is departing.
* * *
Tommie sat down in the chair by the chess game and opened the book Trouble had pulled from the shelf. It was the size of a photo album, and the pages were handstitched into the spine. The craftsmanship was beautiful. Handwritten penmanship flowed elegantly across the pages. There was no title on the cover of the volume, but the first page read, “The Loftus Family of Hawick, a story of ill deeds and hauntings.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into Harley’s clear eyes. “I’m going to track down the cat and check out the rest of the house. I get the idea the cat knows more than we do. What’s that you have?”
She showed him the cover of the book. “A ghost story. It’s dated from the early 1800s.”
“A ghost didn’t open the front door and leave it open.”
“I know, but it couldn’t hurt to know a little about the house. Besides, Trouble wanted me to examine this book. It was slightly pulled out of order.”
“Good idea since nothing else in this room seems to be disturbed. I don’t know why anyone would slip into the house to read a two-hundred-year-old ghost story, but not a lot makes sense about what’s going on here. As soon as we have a chance, I’m changing all the door locks for you.”
“Thanks, Harley. I mean it. You’ve been a godsend. I wouldn’t be able to stay here without you.” That was hard for her to admit, even to herself. She’d grown up feeling like an outsider even though her stepmother had been nothing but kind. But it wasn’t the same as having her real mother, no matter how hard they both worked at it. When she’d hit eighteen, she’d gotten a job in a veterinary clinic and that’s where she met Jonathan. She’d fallen h
ard and fast, and because she was on her own and desperately needing a connection, she’d put one hundred percent into the relationship. When he’d betrayed her, two years and fifty thousand dollars in debt for his law degree, she’d been crushed. She’d convinced herself she’d never allow herself to need another person ever again. Now, with all of the strange things happening at Loftus Manor, she needed Harley to be there. Just to be there for the time being.
“You okay?” Harley brushed his fingers lightly against her cheek.
“Yes.” She sat up taller. “I’m fine. Just troubled by whatever is happening in this house. It defies reason.”
“I’ll be back shortly. I want to take another look around.”
Tommie discovered she was holding her breath until Harley left the room. She filled her lungs and closed her eyes for a second. Harley was working on her. There was a chemistry between them that they’d pretty much been able to ignore, but it was becoming harder and harder to continue pretending they both weren’t aware.
She forced her attention back to the book she held and began to read. “The actions of Reynard Loftus brought the curse down upon the bloodline. Few will dispute that fact. Reynard was not a just man or a fair man, but he was a powerful man in the Village of Hawick and even more powerful when he moved to America.”
Tommie found herself pulled into the story of the Loftus Curse—something neither her uncle nor Harley had told her about. As she read, she felt the hair at the nape of her neck starting to rise. The tale from the 1800s, when Loftus Manor was newly constructed, dealt with a widowed Loftus, Reynard, who lived alone with a female caregiver in the house—one who obviously had ulterior motives.
“Leeanne was a beautiful woman who used the artifices of lip paint and kohl with all the expertise of the harlots of King Louie’s palace.”
She skimmed the pages, listening for Harley’s return, but she was soon again absorbed in the story. It turned out that Reynard and his wife had one child, a son, Pritchett. After the death of Reynard’s wife, Pritchett went to school in England, then returned to earn his law degree in the Northeast. He was working in a firm in Boston when Reynard took ill. Pritchett returned to Wetumpka to settle his father’s will and estate, and that’s when he met the beautiful and very young Leeanne, who claimed that she and Reynard had been married in the last months of his life.
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