“An invitation I’d never turn down,” Harley said.
Laughing, they called Trouble to follow, ran into the house, up the stairs, and into Tommie’s bedroom. When Tommie closed the door, she felt her heart thudding. It wasn’t the idea of a ghost but the anticipation she felt for Harley’s touch.
The light clawing at the door made her hesitate. She opened it and found Trouble sitting there. Instead of walking into the room, the cat gave her one loud meow and then turned and sauntered down the hallway.
“I do believe Trouble just gave us his blessing,” Tommie said.
“Then there’s nothing holding us back,” Harley said with a wicked grin.
He picked her up in his arms and gently kicked the door closed.
* * *
Thank heavens the bipeds finally got over their trust issues. Now they’re canoodling, and from what I can determine by eavesdropping, with great…fervor. A happy ending for those two is what I can easily predict. While Tommie came here with the intention of being alone, I think fate has conspired to give her love. And she’s a lass with a lot of bottled up passion, much like Mr. Brawny. Ah, there’s nothing like a little knee trembler to take the edge off at the end of a hard day.
Best to leave them to their own devices while I, as lead detective on this case, continue with the work of the investigation.
I think it’s up to me to explore the passageway that Hank opened up. I’m the only one who can conveniently fit in the space, and I also have superior night vision.
Up and over, and I’m inside the wall. This space is dry and far more pleasant than the tunnel, but that’s because I’m still in the house proper. I’m going slowly, making sure I don’t overlook any clues. Peculiar, but this passage dead-ends. Literally. There’s a brick wall here. By my calculations I’m still in the old dining area. There’s nothing to see here. Just dust and the debris of old houses. Unlike modern homes, Loftus Manor is all wood and stone. That makes the walls solid, and try as I might, I can’t find anything here except some…balls of hair, as in animal hair. Ah, I see. Amazing that humans thought to include horsehair in the wall plaster. For all of their awkwardness, all reared up on two legs, they do have a creative disposition. At least some of them.
Now that I’m out of the hole in the wall, I think I’ll ease down to the little study where Samuel died. There’s something about that room that just troubles me. Why did he pick that room to die, if indeed he died by his own hand?
This old manse is beautiful, but I have to admit, it has the demeanor of a sad and haunted house. Tommie might not appreciate my assessment, but it’s true. It’s almost as if the house were aware of us, of what we’re doing. I know that sounds slightly mad, but it’s how I feel. Honoring one’s suspicions is the mark of the very best detectives. The trick is to respect that feeling, and to balance it out with evidence and common sense. Humanoids, in particular, find that equilibrium difficult to maintain. Felines, though, come by it naturally.
There’s nothing amiss down in the kitchen area. I overindulged in that delicious beef stew Harley whipped up, but now I’ve walked off the feeling of being uncomfortably full. I think I’ll stake out Samuel’s little study as the place to sleep. Tommie’s bed is full, I think, and I don’t begrudge her a tot of it. I’ve noticed a few slinky kitties around Wetumpka who caught my fancy, but my job keeps me on the road. I hate to start a romance if I’m going to be working. I’m a little sensitive to the “tom-catting” trope that follows an elegant black cat around.
I’m sorry the fire has gone cold. The night really isn’t unpleasant, but there’s something about the crackle of a fire that lulls a cat to sleep. And even without the fire, I feel myself embraced in the arms of Nyx, that fearsome goddess of the night.
But wait, I hear something. A clicking. But it comes from no specific place. It moves. I chase it hither and yon, but I get no closer to finding the source. And now it’s gone. An old house settling, perhaps. That’s what people are often told when they hear things in the night. Still, there’s the sense that I’m being watched, though that’s impossible.
Or is it?
Harley discovered the old caregiver, Nina Ahearn, wandering around Loftus Manor. Tomorrow, he and Tommie will confront her and if necessary, file charges. But while Nina is gone, who’s to say that there isn’t someone else in the walls or hiding around the attic. Normally I can sense intruders—the little odors and noises they produce. But Loftus Manor has been a strange experience for me. There’s often the heavy smell of perfume, but that’s it, and it leads to a dead end. And, of course, the visuals—that female image standing in the window. We can presume that’s been Nina Ahearn, moving through the halls and passageways she learned about when she lived here. But what if it’s someone else? Someone we’ve overlooked?
While I can’t locate the source of the clicks or the perfume, I am burdened this night with a sense of foreboding. So far the attempts to oust Tommie from this house have been centered on fear. Let us hope it doesn’t descend into violence. I shall keep a vigilant watch.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tommie awoke at the first pinkening of the sky. She was wrapped in contentment and a sense of safety, and when she turned and saw Harley’s profile on the pillow, she knew why.
She noted the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Though he wasn’t a man who laughed a lot in public, he had a keen wit and was quick with a private smile. His eyelashes were thick and curled, something any woman would envy, and when he was awake, they framed his serious gray eyes. Now, they brushed his cheekbones and emphasized the straight nose that led to lips that knew how to kiss a woman. Harley might be on the shy side, but somewhere along the way he’d learned the talents of a kind and considerate lover.
His lashes moved up and he turned to look at her. His hand instantly cupped her face. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Yes, it’s a very good morning.” She stretched and felt the pleasant tightness of her muscles.
“Katie and Hank will be here early,” Harley said, pulling her snuggly into his chest.
“I know. As eager as I am to get the renovations done, I’d love to take this morning off. Just for us.”
“And I would love that too, but it’s not to be.” Harley threw back the covers. “I’m going to the cottage for a shower and some clean clothes. Meet you there—I’ll put coffee on.”
Since the manor kitchen was in total disarray, meeting at the cottage was the perfect solution. She slipped from beneath the warm covers, chill bumps dancing over her skin. The minute Harley opened the bedroom door, Trouble scampered across the room and jumped in the bed.
“You and Trouble come down to the cottage after you’ve had a shower. We’ve got a lot of loose ends to tie up.”
Tommie stretched, giving him a tantalizing view of a long thigh as she moved one leg out from under the covers to the floor. “It’s cold.”
“I’ll turn on the heat in the bathroom before I leave.”
“You’re a good man, Harley Jones.”
“I try to be.”
Tommie checked her watch. “I’ll be down in thirty, if Trouble lets me out of bed.” She pulled the cat to her.
“If I have to come get you both, I’m going to have fun doing it,” Harley warned her.
“We’ll see who gets the short end of the stick on that.” Tommie loved that she could now tease Harley and they both enjoyed the game. “Now be gone! I need coffee and something wonderful to eat. Trouble is hungry too.”
Harley gave her a sharp salute and left. She heard him go into the bathroom, no doubt to turn on the gas heater, and then clatter down the stairs. The front door slammed.
“No rest for the wicked,” Tommie told Trouble as she stroked him and then slipped from the bed. “We have mysteries to solve, my fine black friend.”
“Me-ow!” Troubled replied, as if to say, “Indeed we do.”
She loved that the cat seemed to converse with her. He was a truly special feli
ne, and one she was lucky to have in her corner. And it also seemed he wanted her to follow him. In fact, he was downright insistent, tugging at her slipper.
“Shower first,” she insisted, and the cat reluctantly released her slipper. The minute she was out of the shower and dressed, he was back at her, using his claws to gently pull at her jeans.
“Okay, okay.” She followed him down to the kitchen area where he hopped into the hole that Hank had made.
“We’re going to explore that later today, when the workers are back.” Tommie tried to reason with the cat, but he was insistent. He ran from the hole in the wall to a sledgehammer lying on the floor, then back to the hole. It was clear he wanted her to enlarge the hole. And nothing other than action was going to settle him down.
“Okay. I’ll give it a try.” She lifted the sledgehammer and began to swing. The plaster shattered and the old bricks behind it gave way with far less effort than Tommie had anticipated. As the hole widened and the dust settled, Tommie stepped back. What in the world had the cat been so determined to find? She’d come to a section of wall that appeared to end the hidden area. The brick to the left of her hole was solid, without any space for anything, even a cat.
“That’s the end of the road, Trouble. I don’t want to go any further. I don’t know which walls support the second floor. We have to wait for Hank and Katie.” She checked her watch. “And they will be here soon. Now we have breakfast waiting at Harley’s.”
She bent over to scoop the cat into her arms but he leaped free and disappeared into the hole, meowing for her to follow. She knew it would be simpler to do his bidding than argue and she found a flashlight and leaned into the hole. Had the cat not cried out and called her attention to the small carved box tucked into the bricks, she would have missed it completely.
Her heart rate increased as she crawled halfway into the small area and reached to grab the box that was shaped like it might contain jewelry. Was it the long-hunted Loftus fortune sealed in the walls? She finally drew it forth and sat down on the floor outside the hole. The box was light in weight and when she shook it, there was no noise. It didn’t sound like jewels and gold coins would be heavy. She started to open the box but hesitated. This was something she needed to share with Harley. He was as much a part of this as she and Trouble were.
* * *
Harley put the coffee pot on and some bacon in a frying pan as he dialed Aiden River’s number to get an update on the recent attack that could have ended with grave injury to Tommie or himself. He’d downplayed his real concern in front of Tommie, but now he had a chance to really talk to Aiden.
As the phone rang, he found he was smiling to himself, thinking about Tommie and the night they’d shared. He hadn’t expected intimacy—hadn’t wanted it. But now it was like the most precious gift he’d ever been given. Once the strange activities at Loftus Manor were explained and any other false claims settled, he and Tommie were going to have a fabulous time preparing the inn for occupancy. He admitted to himself he wanted to stay, to be a part of it. To be a part of Tommie’s life in any way he could.
When Aiden answered, he laid everything out—the disappearing figure, Nina Ahearn slipping in and out of the manor, Paul Rider’s keen interest in selling the manor, and the tampered with death certificate. That, along with the skeleton in the wall had Aiden worried.
“Can you convince Tommie to leave the manor. Maybe move into a hotel?”
“I can try, but it’s going to be difficult. The renovations have started.”
“I was going to call you today anyway. I sent a deputy over to check out Nina Ahearn’s vehicle. It appears her car has been grazed by a bullet. You said you fired several shots. I can’t say for certain, but it’s worth checking out. We’ll need to run some forensics to be sure, but I’m willing to bet that was the vehicle that tried to run you off the road.”
“Nina’s been a busy bee,” Harley said, feeling the anger surge at the thought of how easily Tommie could have been harmed.
“This isn’t definite, and we need to investigate further. I sent some officers to check out the car, but it was gone. Nina’s been staying at a local hotel, and they said she’d checked out. Just wanted to give you a head’s up.”
“Thanks, Aiden. We’ll be on the lookout for her.”
“As soon as I get a report on the skeleton, I’ll be around to visit with Tommie. Maybe I can convince her to at least leave the property at night. Until we resolve this.”
Harley chuckled. “Good luck with that.” He saw her and the cat coming down the drive. “Be in touch, Aiden. And thank you.”
He was draining the bacon on paper towels when Tommie and the cat arrived with an ornately carved box in hand. Tommie held it out to him. “Trouble found this in the wall, where the skeleton was. It’s too light to be gold, but it could be the Loftus family jewels that are supposed to be hidden in the house.”
“You didn’t look?” Harley found that the fact she’d waited to include him touched him deeply. “And Trouble didn’t make you look? Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”
Trouble jumped on the table and reached up to put his paws on the box.
“He’s dying to know what’s inside,” Tommie said. “And so am I.”
The box, which was beautifully carved with an eagle soaring over a forest, was simply made. There was only a hinge. No lock or means of securing the box. Harley handed it over to Tommie and waited for her to open it.
She lifted the lid and pulled out a sheet of paper covered in black India ink. Harley knew instantly it was old, and he relaxed when Tommie settled on the table top so she could use more care unfolding it.
She waved him over and together they opened the large page of beautiful calligraphy. Harley immediately noticed the signature of Farthwright Loftus. As he scanned the document, Harley realized how valuable it was—and how at the time it was written it could also have sent a number of people to the gallows.
“It isn’t jewels or treasure that was hidden at Loftus Manor,” he said, “it’s a map of the underground railroad stops for slaves as they made their way to freedom. It lists every farm that’s safe for them to approach and how to get there. This map would have taken runaway slaves all the way through Tennessee. From there, someone else would have helped them continue.”
“The people who did this were very brave,” Tommie said, her finger stroking the page softly. “Do you think this was left behind by the woman in the wall?”
Harley sighed. “I do. I think that was her most valuable possession. She must have been the leader of a group of slaves moving through this area.”
“What could have happened to the rest of them?”
“It was against the law for a slave to know how to read. I suspect they memorized every single detail of this document and then they traveled on by what they’d committed to memory. Taking the actual document was too risky. If the document had fallen into the wrong hands, a lot of people would have been hanged.”
“So you think this was the big treasure of Loftus Manor?”
Harley watched her face closely. Tommie seemed strangely elated. While she could have used a fortune in jewels, she seemed excited about this find.
Harley put his arm around her. “I do. I’m sorry it’s not money.”
“I’m not.” Tommie looked at him. “I have the best slogan for my inn: Loftus Manor, on the road to freedom. This will only enhance the future of the inn.”
Harley hugged her close. She never disappointed him. “Perfection.”
Trouble wasn’t willing to be left out of the celebration. He hopped to the table, grabbed a slice of bacon, and started his breakfast.
“I have an idea,” Tommie said, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s use the carved box to lure those working against me out of hiding.”
Harley instantly saw her point. “We can announce we’ve found the Loftus treasure and then pretend to leave the manor.”
“They’ll come, hoping to find additional treasure,” T
ommie said. “I think it might work.”
“It’s worth a try. Hank and Katie will help us. They can take the box to town and show it around. Word will spread like wildfire.”
“That’s exactly what we want.”
“Me-ow!” Trouble gave his unblinking green-eyed approval to the plan before he grabbed more bacon.
Chapter Thirty-Three
At last, the case is coming together—and not in the way any of us anticipated. Harley and Tommie make a great team. And they share a set of values that will stand them in good stead in the future. In that regard, I am satisfied with my work of the romantic kind. That is not the case with the felonious mishaps of this mystery. As to pinpointing the culprit, I can’t definitively name the prime suspect. This is unpleasant for me and I’m tempted to sack myself. Felines are never indecisive, unless we are toying with the bipeds, and then it is only for show. I must confess there have been a few times when I would cry to come inside and then stop at the threshold and look around, just the tip of my nose inside. I am amused to see how long Tammy will allow me to prevaricate. Then I turn around and walk off, wait for five minutes, and cry at the door again. It’s a petty game but still somewhat amusing. Somewhat along the lines of humans dangling catnip-stuffed cloth parakeets for cats to chase. Silly but fun.
Me, I’m waiting to find out who the elusive “ghost of the manor” will turn out to be. We know Nina is involved, and her knowledge of the property has been a real asset to her liege lord. But she isn’t the mastermind. I suspect Paul Rider, the pushy broker, plays a role, but that is yet to be determined. Perhaps it’s just that I don’t care for his bullying ways. In case you don’t know, cats despise being bullied. And I don’t care to see my biped friends put in the grinder by a bully either.
But now we’re heading up to the manor to photograph the hole and anything else that will help bait the trap. We’ll move the vehicles and pretend to leave the manor unattended.
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