Trouble Restored

by Carolyn Haines

  “Unfortunately,” he continued, “when Rudy and I took out this wall,” he pointed with a crowbar, “we found a lot more than we bargained for. A human skeleton.” The camera crew moved in for close ups of the body in the wall.

  Harley signaled Tommie to walk out into the foyer with him. “I’m glad you let them film it, and I believe you can trust them to honor their word to you.”

  “I hope so. I don’t want this footage showing up all over the internet when I’m trying to book Christmas rooms. This could kill my business. If I ever get a business going.” She felt despondent.

  “Or it could increase your business. Haunted houses are big bucks,” Harley said, putting a protective arm over her shoulders. “Look, this was bound to get out no matter whether Hank and Katie use it or not. How many of those workers do you think have cell phone footage of that find? And it’ll be all over town once the law arrives. This way, at least you can control the major narrative.”

  Harley was right about that. A skeleton walled up in the notoriously haunted Loftus Manor was going to be big news in Wetumpka and surrounding areas. The gossip would fade, eventually, and a good way to stay on top of the story and how it was reported was by working with Hank and Katie, who could actually normalize the macabre find. For a man who’d spent the last five years as a virtual hermit, Harley had a good handle on marketing and promotion techniques. He was a man with surprising gifts.

  As the sound of sirens drew closer, Tommie squared her shoulders and prepared to do the necessary things to have the skeleton removed and to cooperate with the local law enforcement.

  When the patrol car pulled up in front of the manor, Tommie was surprised to see it was a city cruiser rather than a county sheriff’s car. The handsome man that stepped out of the vehicle had to be Aiden Rivers, the man engaged to marry Trouble’s human mother, the bookseller.

  “Aiden!” Harley greeted him with affection. “I thought the sheriff would come out?”

  “I asked to take this,” Aiden said. “It’s an interdepartmental cooperation thing. Sheriff Havard has all of his men at a double drowning on the river. Terrible tragedy. I was happy to check this out for the county.”

  After an introduction, Aiden followed Tommie into the house and through to the kitchen where the gaping hole in the brick wall was impossible to miss. Aiden took a long look. “Mr. Moore, the coroner, is sending a team to remove the remains. I’m sure they’ll send the bones to Montgomery.” He turned to Tommie. “Our medical examiner doesn’t have the skill or equipment to evaluate a skeleton. The state facility is far more sophisticated.”

  Tommie nodded. She still had some questions for the state medical examiner about Samuel’s official cause of death—a pressing matter that had completely been derailed by the discovery of a skeleton.

  “We’ll have the remains removed as quickly as possible,” Aiden said. “I’d like a chance to examine the area where the body was stored, get some detailed photographs, and then you can resume the renovation. Not a lot of forensic evidence left to gather, I fear.”

  “Do you have any idea who it might be?” Tommie knew she sounded melancholy, but she couldn’t help it. “Will you be able to tell cause of death?”

  “I don’t know is my answer to both questions,” Aiden said. “I’ll talk to Tammy. She knows a lot of people in the area who know a lot of history. Surely there must be some kind of story if the bones belong to a local person. We’ll do what we can. I promise.”

  * * *

  Harley glanced over at Tommie as she talked with Aiden, waving at the hole in the wall and finally taking Aiden into the small study where Samuel had died. Harley wanted to be with her, but he knew Aiden preferred talking alone with Tommie, and Harley had something else he needed to do.

  Apparently, the black cat had his own ideas about the next step to be taken, too. He fell in with Harley as he went out the front door and walked around the manor to the wood shed. From an assortment of tools, he picked up an axe, a sledge hammer, and a crowbar.

  Hank and Katie had instantly stopped work the minute they’d discovered the skeleton, but when the employees from the coroner’s office finished up with the body removal, Harley intended to take out more of the wall. There was more to the body’s hiding place than just a convenient dumping site. Harley had done some arithmetic based on the conversation he overheard between Aiden and the coroner’s men, which seemed to indicate the skeleton was at least a hundred years old, as they had guessed. Which meant the bones had been encased in the house long before Samuel moved in. Had Samuel known of any rumors of a body walled up in the manor, he would have conjured scary stories with great flair. The skeleton in the wall was far too reminiscent of “The Cask of Amontillado” for Samuel to resist repeating. No, the dead person had deliberately been walled up. If this was not a murder, then it was a cover-up of a death.

  That kind of story was macabre, but it could help boost tourists for Tommie’s inn. It could also attract the bad element of people who would seek an opportunity to destroy and dig up the property. Someone would need to keep a close eye on the grounds and house. Harley stopped himself, because he was already visualizing filling that role. He’d agreed to stay until Tommie was settled, so it was foolish to play out fantasies of a long-term stay. He had feelings for Tommie, but emotions were a long way from a commitment. He needed to step back.

  The black cat was sitting in front of him, watching with that intense green gaze that seemed to read Harley’s mind. He chuckled at the thought and bent down to pet the cat. Trouble responded with a loud purr and then darted off to the servant’s door of the house. With everyone focused on the skeleton, now was a good time for a little more exploration of the manor.

  In the back of his mind, Harley had been flipping over the possible ways the uninvited visitor was gaining access to Loftus Manor. Like the cat, he’d settled on the servant’s entrance. When he tried the door, it was locked, as Tommie had insisted. She checked and locked the doors at least once a day, sometimes more. He was about to go back to the front when he noticed an area around the lock that had been chipped, as if smacked with an ice pick or some sharp device. Harley rattled the door and then slid a credit card down the lock. The door clicked open and he stepped inside, the cat right with him.

  Instead of going to the kitchen, Trouble headed up the narrow stairs that led to the second floor, and then the attic. Harley and Tommie had briefly toured the attic, but they’d put off an extensive search until the renovators were on site.

  “Me-ow!” Trouble blinked his green eyes at Harley. “Meow!”

  “Show me,” Harley said to the cat.

  Trouble bounded up the stairs and kept going until he was at the attic door.

  A chill swept over Harley as he pushed the door open and stepped into near total darkness. There were several small windows around the large room to allow for ventilation, but they hadn’t been cleaned in years and the light that filtered into the room was muted.

  He stood for a moment, getting his bearings and trying to understand why his heart was beating at triple pace. In the far-right corner of the room, a shadow moved. It wasn’t just his imagination, because the cat saw it too and reacted. Trouble leaped on top of a covered sofa and from there to a table top and a bureau. The attic was a graveyard of abandoned furniture.

  Harley rushed toward the area where he’d seen movement, but without a flashlight, he stumbled several times. By the time he got to the area, it was empty. Thick dust on the furniture was undisturbed. He chuckled softly. Finding the skeleton in the wall had really put his imagination into overdrive. He blew out his breath and felt his heartrate slow. If someone was in the attic, they could find hiding places with ease, but based on the dust, no one was here. It had been a trick of light or the branches of a tree outside moving in the wind.

  “Who’s up here?” he called out. He didn’t expect an answer. “When I find you, I’m going to march you right downstairs to the police.” He waited, but there was no resp
onse.

  The only answer came from the cat, who leaped over the top of the furniture that was such a stumbling block for Harley.

  “Meow!” Trouble called out, urging Harley to follow him.

  He obliged, wondering why the cat had been so insistent on coming to the attic. When he made it to the opposite wall, he found himself in front of some framed portraits. Judging from the dust on the cloth that covered them they hadn’t been viewed in many years. Harley had no interest in disturbing them, but the cat had other plans. Trouble slid between several of the paintings and sent a whole stack of them toppling over.

  “Watch it, Trouble,” Harley said. He didn’t know if the art was valuable or sentimental, and he didn’t want to find out. “Come on, cat, let’s go back downstairs.” He hadn’t meant to leave Tommie alone for this length of time. She’d seemed okay, but finding a body in the walls of your home was enough to shake up even the most stalwart person.

  He started to turn away, but the cat was at his leg. Trouble reared up and put his paws on Harley’s leg. When he dug his claws in, Harley realized the cat meant business. “What’s going on?”

  When the cat had his full attention, Trouble went back to the stack of paintings. He patted one with his paw.

  “You want me to look at this painting?” Harley asked, and didn’t feel in the least foolish talking to the cat. Trouble comprehended plenty.

  Trouble slowly blinked his big green eyes that were luminous in the dimly lit attic.

  “Okay, then.” Harley began picking up the fallen paintings and moving them aside until he came to the one Trouble had indicated. He lifted it up and removed the brown paper wrapping—which had partially been clawed away—that had been used to protect the painting. He couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him.

  The woman who stood at the edge of a woods wore a dark cloak with three star-sapphire buttons on the left shoulder. The hood of the cloak covered most of the woman’s face, but not enough to hide her identity. Rachel Loftus stared back at him from the painting. She was young, vibrant, and so beautiful that Harley fully understood Samuel’s lifelong devotion to his bride and wife. But why was she wearing the cloak?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tommie saw the awe and appreciation on the faces of Kate and Hank as they viewed the portrait Harley had found in the attic. While they’d been occupied with the removal of the skeleton in the wall, Harley had brought the portrait downstairs, removed a pastoral scene that had hung above the fireplace, and hung the Rachel portrait in the main library—all before he’d called everyone in to see it.

  “The time period makes it look like she lived in the 1800s,” Katie said. “And that cloak! It’s almost as if I can see a wind riffling the edges of it.”

  “It’s an extraordinary work of art,” Hank agreed. “Why was it hidden in the attic?”

  “I have no idea,” Tommie said. Looking into the eyes of the woman wearing the mysterious cloak with three buttons on her shoulder—buttons that glowed with an inner light—Tommie still felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. The old lore that the glow of the star sapphire was a trapped soul made her slightly nauseated. Aside from that, the painting was an incredible work of art. She couldn’t help but think that as much as Samuel reportedly loved Rachel, this vision of her should have been prominently displayed. Not hidden away in the attic.

  “Samuel never mentioned this painting,” Harley said. “I don’t understand why not. It’s incredible.”

  One look at the beautiful woman in the portrait and Tommie knew the cloak played a role in her family history, and in the mystery of the hidden painting. More of a role than she’d ever believed. Remembering the vision she’d seen—the woman in the cloak in the back garden—she felt frustration. She had so many parts of the puzzle, thanks to Harley and Trouble, and yet she still couldn’t piece together what was happening in Loftus Manor.

  “That’s definitely Samuel’s wife, Rachel,” Harley explained to Hank and Katie. “Samuel was always showing me pictures of her. He was dedicated to her and his love for her never faltered. I could have sworn he was deeply in love with her until the day he died.” He looked over at Tommie and caught her eye. “He was always showing those same pictures to Nina.”

  His implication was clear to Tommie. “Do you have any idea why Rachel is wearing that cloak?” That was pretty much the only thing she could think about.

  “I don’t. We’ll have to find that out,” Harley told her, his hand on her shoulder offering reassurance and support. “It’s a great clue, though.”

  Tommie started to respond, but she remained silent. Her frustrations wouldn’t help anyone find answers. She was momentarily distracted by Trouble, jumping to the mantel below the portrait. The cat was so athletic and graceful, he landed between several candles and a vase of silk flowers without disturbing a single thing. He sat down and turned to watch everyone.

  “The portrait is a great find, but it doesn’t help us identify the body in the wall,” Hank said, reminding them that their biggest priority was to solve the identity of a dead person. “Aiden’s FBI training will come in handy finding the facts.”

  “I’m glad the body is gone,” Tommie said. Aiden had overseen the coroner removing the bones for transport to Montgomery. Forensic coroners could work miracles with DNA and other technology—or so she’d been assured. “Surely there are missing person’s reports or…something that will give us answers.” The idea that the bones would go unclaimed forever was intolerable.

  “Aiden will have some answers for us tomorrow,” Harley assured her. “For right now, why don’t we take the rest of the day off from the renovation. You look done in.”

  Tommie saw the worry that floated over his expression. She stepped closer to the painting. “Are you one hundred percent sure this is Samuel’s wife?”

  “It’s Rachel,” Harley said, his tone tender and kind.

  “But the woman in the old photo we found in the book can’t be Rachel,” Tommie said.

  Katie put a hand on her arm, her face suddenly alight with an idea. “Wait a minute! Call Tammy Lynn. Hank, do you remember Tammy telling us about some big costume ball that Samuel held years ago? He and his wife hosted this gala event as a fundraiser for a city charity.”

  “I do,” Hank said, his expression excited. “It was a huge success. According to Tammy, the ball was the event of the decade. Everybody who was anybody attended. Lots of celebrities, including Louise Fletcher, back home in Alabama after her first movie role. And Harper Lee, who’d just won her Pulitzer. And E.O. Wilson—they all attended. There were politicians and sports figures and musicians. It was a homecoming for a lot of Alabama talent in many fields.”

  Tommie shot a questioning look at Harley. Even in the middle of the terrible mess they found themselves in, she had an idea that a do-over of the ball would be the perfect way to announce Loftus Manor as an inn. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “I never heard a word,” he said, “but Loftus Manor would be the perfect location for such a party. I can see it. And I can see Rachel coming dressed as some historical Loftus relative, which is exactly what I think happened.”

  “It was a costume party,” Katie said. “And from what Tammy said, everyone came as a historical figure. Maybe this was Rachel’s costume.”

  It was almost like a click in Tommie’s brain. “Rachel came as someone from the past, someone linked to Loftus Manor. But who is the woman in the cloak?” she asked, musing aloud.

  “You sure have a lot of mysteries at this old house,” Hank said. “Skeletons in the wall, mysterious paintings and what should prove to be a narrow passage in that wall that we’ll explore tomorrow. Today, I think we’re done. I sent the work crews home already. If it’s okay, we’ll be back tomorrow at seven.”

  “That’s fine,” Tommie said. She was eager to explore the area behind the wall even further, but after the day she’d had, she didn’t want to do it with dusk stealing over the sky. Tomorrow was, indeed, an
other day.

  “I’ll see Hank and Katie out,” Harley whispered in her ear. “Sit down on that sofa. I’ll bring in more firewood and when I get back, I’ll give you the best foot massage you’ve ever had.”

  Tommie couldn’t help laughing. She’d never have taken Harley for a foot massage kind of guy, but it sounded perfectly divine. “You’re on.”

  She listened to the renovators and Harley chatting as they made their way to the front door. Even though she felt she was shirking her hostess duties, she was exhausted. Her shoulders ached from the tension. When Trouble jumped into her lap, she cuddled him against her, glad for his loud purr. “You found the portrait, Trouble. You added to the puzzle while at the same time you’re helping to solve it.”

  The cat leaped from her lap and, in one long bound, was back on the mantel. With great care and control, he stood on his back legs and reached his front paws up, up, up the portrait until he patted Rachel’s décolletage.

  “Be careful!” Tommie jumped to her feet. Trouble was always very careful, but his claws could easily ruin the painting.

  “Me-ow!” His cry was demanding, and he gently patted the canvas again.

  “What is it?” She knew the cat was trying to show her something. She got a chair and moved it to the fireplace so she could get closer to the painting. When she was beside the cat, he gave the painting one more pat and jumped down.

  A thin gold chain on Rachel’s neck winked in the light from a western window. A tiny gold key was tucked in the crease between Rachel’s breasts. “The key!” She recognized the size and shape instantly.

  Harley opened the library door and entered with a load of wood just in time to see Tommie jump to the floor. “It’s the key,” she said. “The gold key!”