Trouble Restored

by Carolyn Haines

  “They look so happy,” Harley said.

  “They do.”

  She continued going through the photos and stopped. In one snapshot of Rachel and Samuel standing at the bottom of the beautiful staircase, there was something above them—a wispy film. The more she looked, the more the image looked human. But it wasn’t a person; it was an entity. It hovered above the stairs, an ethereal being caught on film. “Oh, dear,” Tommie said. “As Melinda in the TV show would say, ‘We are with ghost at the manor.’”

  She held the photo out to Harley, who looked shocked. In return, he handed a piece of thick, aged paper to her. “And treasure,” he said. “I believe it’s a map of where the Loftus fortune has been hidden.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  While Tommie and Harley pore over the treasure map—and they are deeply puzzled by the seemingly indecipherable legend of the map—I’m keeping an eye out for anyone in the restaurant who might display too much interest in what the humanoids are doing. I would caution the bipeds to use more care in their actions, but it’s been a tragic, stressful day and it’s good to see them plotting together. Funny how sometimes life hands us the exact person who can give us what we need. And when the exchange is beneficial to both, this bears the fingerprint of the gods. I can almost see the high walls of defense both Tommie and Harley have built beginning to fall, brick by brick.

  All well and good for the romance department, but if someone here in Tantee’s Restaurant has an untoward interest in what’s going on with the Lofton Lass and Loftus Manor, I need to be aware of it. Harley is normally an eagle-eye for trouble. Case in point the expert driving he did on Brindza Road to keep us from getting shot or wrecked. But right now, he is besotted with Tommie. Give the kids a little room for pleasure. Life is too short, even for a feline with nine lives. Take a moment of joy when it knocks at your door.

  Ah, Harley is coming to his senses and looking around the restaurant. He cautions Tommie to whisper. Good work. But so far, I don’t detect any enemies near us. A needed break in the constant drama of Loftus Manor since Tommie arrived.

  To my great delight, when Harley ordered coffee, he also included a small portion of the grilled rainbow trout for me. The dish comes with a light cream sauce, which I adore. I give him a big wink to let him know how much I appreciate his thoughtfulness. I have to say, Tommie needs one of those dolls that cry and raise hell if you don’t feed it or change it. I would suggest handcuffing it to her wrist or else she’ll leave it somewhere and never notice. She’s a lovely lass, but when she isn’t hungry, she forgets that I have a very small stomach and expend vast amounts of energy in helping her. But no biped is without sin. They’ll be hard pressed to equal the perfection of the average feline, not to mention the truly superior perfection of…yours truly.

  Now that Tommie and Harley have eased back from the so-called treasure map, I can take a gander. At first it seems to be nonsense, but it is definitely a map of something. Treasure? I’m not certain. That is the first assumption, of course. But why wouldn’t Samuel have found the treasure? Or at least why wouldn’t he have left directions to Tommie on how to access the treasure? Why give her the manor but not the means to support it—if those means truly do exist?

  I’ll need to really think about this map, but to be honest, it appears to be something more interesting, at least to me. This seems to be dead space within Loftus Manor. Passageways. And that one in particular seems to reveal where the skeleton was found. I can’t be certain until I get back to the manor and check it out, but what if Rachel knew about the passageways and decided to leave a detailed map for someone else. And what if Samuel wasn’t aware of these hidden means of moving about the house? Which leads to the bigger question. Did Rachel know details of the person sealed in the wall from a century ago? None of this seems to have a direct flow of logic. Sherlockian deduction demands logic. I daresay this would drive the Baker Street sleuth to his well-documented indulgences.

  Ah, my fish is here. The aroma has me salivating. And oh, yes, so worth it. This is divinely scrummy. And if I play my cards right, I’ll have a dollop of cream for my afters! Thank you, Mr. Brawny.

  * * *

  Harley watched the cat eat with pleasure. One thing about Trouble, he knew what he liked and he ate it with relish. And the cat did have refined taste. No doubt about that. When Trouble sat back from his dish, Harley signaled Tommie that he was ready to go. He’d made no progress with the map, and by now wasn’t convinced it was even a real treasure map. There were curious notations—numbers and codes—about the entire thing. And while it vaguely resembled some of the interior of Loftus Manor and grounds, drawn out like an architectural plan, he couldn’t be certain. Too bad he didn’t know a cryptologist to ask for help. The numbers and notations were small, and he couldn’t connect them in any way to the architecture of the house.

  “What does 18 narrow mean? Do you think we’ll figure this out?” Tommie asked him, exhaustion in her voice.

  “I don’t know, but we will put it all together.” She needed to believe, and that he could give her. Sometimes hope was the only thing that kept a person going. Tommie had had quite a week since she’d moved to Alabama.

  When they left the restaurant, Tommie stumbled slightly and he caught her, bringing her into his chest to stabilize her. Which turned into a warm embrace. She was so exhausted, all defenses were down, and they stood outside the restaurant in the parking lot, just holding each other while the cat gave them a knowing look. He could almost swear the cat approved of the growing feelings between them.

  When Tommie and the cat were safely in his vehicle, he texted Aiden to let him know they were headed back to Loftus Manor. Aiden had mentioned that several deputies would be on alert along the roadway. Harley was good with that. He could protect himself—but Tommie and the cat were another matter. He wouldn’t risk them. He was glad to have the help from Aiden and the other officers.

  Tommie fell asleep as soon as the car was in motion, and Harley drove carefully, alert for danger from any side. Trouble hopped into the front seat and helped him keep watch. They made it back to the manor without incident.

  The minute Harley pulled up, though, his heartrate increased. The front door was wide open. Again. He thought of the photograph of the “spirit” Tommie had found in Rachel’s lock box. It was either a spirit or someone who had a key to the manor. Tommie had locked the door. He was certain of it.

  She awoke as he parked at the front door.

  “Stay in the car,” he urged her. “Please, Tommie. I’m better able to investigate if I don’t have to worry about you. Here, get behind the wheel and be ready to drive off if anyone comes out of the house. And give Aiden a call.” He reached over to the glove box and got his gun before he handed her his phone. “This is going to end, one way or the other.”

  “Be careful. Nothing is worth getting hurt.”

  “I’ll be safe. And you take off if anyone other than me comes out that door.”

  “I promise.” Tommie slid beneath the steering wheel. She kept the car running.

  Harley was aware Trouble was waiting for him at the open door. Funny but the cat gave him a lot of confidence.

  * * *

  Tommie chewed her bottom lip as she watched Harley and Trouble disappear in the doorway of Loftus Manor. She’d given her word, and she intended to honor it, no matter how much she wanted to go inside the manor. She had to accept that Harley was better trained in this than she was, and it was true she could endanger him or herself by sneaking inside. She would wait.

  She tried to relax in the driver’s seat, but she couldn’t. The brief nap had given her a new surge of energy, and she watched the front door, praying that Harley and Trouble were safe and both would come out in a moment to wave her into the house. Or even better, Harley would catch whoever was playing with them and hog tie them until the law could arrive. If anyone could do it, Harley could. She had faith in him. Especially with Trouble on the scene to help.


  No matter how she stared at the doorway, though, it remained empty. She was so focused on that one location that she almost missed the movement in an upstairs window on the side of the house where her room was located. In fact, it was one of the windows of her room—a woman was standing there, looking down on her. She couldn’t see her features clearly, but the outline of her form, the narrow waist and fuller skirt, the hair piled on her head. It was definitely a woman and one she’d seen before.

  She got out of the car slowly and hesitated, locking the doors to protect the paperwork she’d taken from the bank. She wanted to call Harley, but he’d given her his phone. She had no way to reach him, but she couldn’t let the woman escape.

  “Damn it.” She ran up the steps and into the house. Should she call out? She decided not to. Instead, she rushed up the stairs to the second floor and headed to her room. She was going to confront the intruder now, once and for all.

  There was no sign of Harley or Trouble, and she made it down the landing to her bedroom on silent feet. The door was open and she slipped into the room, aware of the scent of heavy perfume. In the dim light cast by a single lamp she realized the room was empty. She was too late yet again.

  She heard footsteps, moving fast, headed toward her. “Harley?” she called out, not wanting to catch him off-guard.

  “You were supposed to stay outside,” Harley said as he and the cat entered the room.

  “I saw someone in the window. She’s gone though.”

  “I saw her in your uncle’s study,” Harley said. “Well, Trouble saw her first. I caught a glimpse as she left the room. She disappeared down the hall, up the stairs, and by the time I got up here, I didn’t see her. I went to Nina’s old room first. I assumed, if it had something to do with the inheritance of the house, whoever it was might go there.”

  “Instead, she came to my room.” The truth of her statement sent a chill over Tommie. “Did you get a sense of whether she was…real, or a ghost?”

  “Real,” Harley said with decisiveness. “There was mud tracked into Samuel’s study, by the desk where we found the key. And someone had riffled through his papers. Someone, a very much alive someone, has been coming and going here. They have to be here in the house still.” Harley stepped forward and went to the window. “We’ve overlooked the method of entrance and egress, but we have to find it.”

  They both noticed that Trouble had jumped onto the windowsill. The cat reached up with his front paw and began tapping the glass panels. Tommie knew he was seeking something, but she couldn’t figure out what. A person couldn’t disappear into glass any more than bricks and mortar. Still, the cat was determined. He stood on tiptoe, seeking the top of the window with his front paws.

  Tommie stepped up to the window and began feeling along the top of the panes where the windows locked. Her search led her to more closely examine the framework of the window. Loftus Manor had been built of heavy limestone rocks. Time would leave little mark on the old home. But as thick as the exterior walls were, and compensating for wood framing, something seemed off about the dimensions of this particular area.

  Tommie slid her fingertips along the wood, feeling for what her eyes couldn’t see. She found a small, hard nub. Acting on instinct, she pressed until she heard a click, and a part of the window frame pushed back, revealing an opening barely big enough for a person to step into. A small person.

  Tommie shifted her shoulders into the opening. “I’ll see where it goes.”

  Harley gently grasped her hand. “Look.” He pointed toward the woods near the back of the house. A woman fled into the trees.

  “Should we follow her?”

  Harley thought a moment. “No. She’s likely hidden a car down by the river. She’ll be gone before we can get there. Let’s find out where this passage goes.”

  “You won’t fit,” Tommie said. It was just a fact that Harley’s shoulders were too broad, his frame too tall. The passage would accommodate only a small-framed woman. “Go after the woman! Even if you can’t catch her maybe you can get a glimpse of her car.”

  “Let me get a flashlight for you. Or we can wait until Hank and Katie get here tomorrow. Just in case you get stuck.”

  “I have a light on my phone. Go! I won’t get stuck,” Tommie said. She had a sudden revelation. “Harley, those numbers, on the map of the manor. They’re measurements of the areas where the walls are thicker, where there’s a space to move between the walls. If I remember correctly, there’s space on this wall down to the ground floor and extending into the yard. There must be some kind of tunnel or underground passage that opens into the woods.” Tommie could barely suppress her excitement. “We’ve figured it out, Harley. Or at least a part of it.”

  “Except we don’t know who that woman was.”

  “Now that we know how she’s getting in and out, we’ll be able to figure out the rest. Go, please! See what you can find out.”

  Harley put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I don’t like you going in there alone. What if someone is waiting in there?”

  Tommie nodded at the cat, who hopped into the opening in front of her. “I won’t be alone. Trouble will be with me.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Choosing wisely is the mark of a true detective, according to Sherlock. I’ve chosen to stay with the Loftus Lass as we penetrate the dark confines of this crawlspace. There’s plenty of room for me, but I can hear the labored intake of her breath. She’s scared and close to hyperventilating—a righteous case of the collywobbles. I understand. The air in here is damp and musty. Each step beyond the light could be off a steep ledge—impossible to tell. She is moving tentatively, but she is marching forward with all the courage I expect. I’ll rub against her legs and give her some comfort and confidence, I hope.

  If the ghostly marauder who haunts Loftus Manor can get up and down this passage, so can we. The steps do go at a rather steep angle, but at last we’ve come to a level part of the passage. I can’t discern what is ten feet to the right or left of us, or even above or below us. We are in a black hole, moving steadily, but to what destination? I can only stay a few feet ahead of Tommie so that if there is danger, I can sense it first.

  Her cell phone does a fair job of illuminating the area immediately in front of us, and I see now there are names and marks carved into this wall that indicate a number of people have passed through here. She’s documenting the passageway with photographs. Smart girl. Loftus Manor is relatively isolated. Why would anyone be forced to use this elaborate system of passages and what is obviously a tunnel? Why not just walk across the lawn—if my presumption that we are moving away from the manor is true.

  It’s a curiosity for certain. But wait! Look at this! I must get Tommie to see. I bump her shins, catch her leg with my claws and at last, she is looking where I point. Her gasp is exactly the proper response.

  I sense a bit of fresher air. I hope we’re coming to the end of this tunnel and freedom! I feel like a mole, and let me say that moleishness is not greatly appreciated by cats. If we’d been intended to plow underground in dark and fetid tunnels, we would have been designed with little webbed hands and feet for digging. Ugh! What a foul situation.

  We’ve come to the end of this passage. If my calculations are correct, we are in the spot where we saw the woman appear. Which means we need to push against the ceiling of this tunnel to see if we can find an exit. The idea that we might have to travel back the way we came is beginning to freak even me out—and I am not a feline who rattles easily.

  But ah, yes, there is a small step stool. It’s wooden and handmade. Very old but sturdy, and it indicates these tunnels have been in use for a long, long time. Probably since Loftus Manor was built. The Loftus Lass is climbing on the stool and pushing against the ceiling.

  Sweet heaven, a blast of fresh air! Yes. And one can only hope Mr. Brawny is there to help us out of this hole. Or perhaps that won’t be necessary. Here’s a ladder. That will work perfectly to deliver us into the fresh
air of a gorgeous October night.

  * * *

  When he saw the slight upheaval of the ground and leaves, Harley rushed to help Tommie push open the trap door not far from the back corner of the manor. Tommie’s assumption had been correct, there was an underground passage that led away from the house. Harley was eager to put Tommie’s feet on solid ground. When he pulled her free of the hole, she clung to him for a long moment.

  “Boy, am I glad to get out of there,” Tommie said, shuddering, but still able to control her tears. “Whew, thank goodness I’m not claustrophobic. That tunnel isn’t intended for someone with space issues. There were places where my shoulders rubbed the sides of the walls.” She blew out her breath. “I’m not normally afraid of tunnels but I kept thinking, how old is this passage, has there ever been an earthquake in this area, who built this and why? I was getting a little freaked out when I came to the end, thank goodness.”

  It made Harley nervous just hearing about it. “Did you see anything in the tunnel? Or the passage?”

  “I did!” Tommie held out her phone. “And I took photos.”

  “Smart girl!” Harley was elated. “What did you find?”

  “Look.” She went to her camera icon and into her camera roll. “There are marks on the walls. Some of them are made by someone my size, but there are other marks that look to have been made by someone the size of a child. And then this.” She flipped to one photo where Trouble was clearly pointing to some writing on the wall. The letters J I X had been scratched into the stones. “That’s the name of the little ghost in your uncle’s story. Her name was Jacquelyn, but she was called Jix.”

  For Harley, the pieces shifted into focus. The long history of the manor, the ghost stories, the tunnels, the disappearing forms at the windows. It all made sense if viewed from a historical angle. “I have a theory about Jix and these passages.”