"And you love me for it."
"More than I can say."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Henry turned to Polly. "Do you have plans this morning?"
She'd sent him questioning looks all through breakfast since he was generally out of the door long before the kids left for school, but he was still here.
"Uhhh. No?" she said. "Wanna mess around?"
He laughed out loud. "Always, but I have a small surprise for you over at Bell House."
"I was going over anyway," she said. "Me and the rake. We're about to get cozy-friendly." Polly flexed her arm. "I'm building these muscles back up. You'd better be careful."
He waggled his eyebrows at her. "I'm always careful, baby." He dipped his head in mock shame. "That so didn't work, did it?"
"Nope, but I appreciate the effort."
Henry picked the plates up from the table and carried them into the sink in the kitchen. "How can I help you get out of here?"
Polly looked around and shrugged. "I'm ready to go now, I guess. Are we in a hurry?"
"Maybe a little."
"Do I have time for coffee from Sweet Beans?"
He glanced up at the clock on the wall and rolled his neck. "Only if you don't spend time chatting with everyone you see there. Can you do that?"
"One truck or two?" she asked, heading for the back door.
"Better take two."
"Then I'll race you." Polly ran down the steps and through the doors to the garage. She hit the button to raise the garage door as she raced to her truck. After she backed out, she hit the button to lower it again and giggled. Fair-shmair. He didn't need his fix as bad as she needed hers.
Picking up her phone, she dialed the coffee shop and when Sky answered, she breathlessly gave him her order. "Can you hurry this for me? I hate to ask, but I'm racing Henry to the Bell House."
"It will be ready when you get here," he replied with a laugh. "The two of you are weird. He just called me, too. Said I was supposed to give you his coffee."
"That fink," she said. "I'll be right there."
She pulled out onto the highway, waving at Henry as he backed out of the garage, trying her best to drive within the speed limit. Polly knew that when challenged, she would do anything to win. Running into pedestrians in downtown Bellingwood or getting picked up for speeding by people she knew was not a precedent she wanted to set.
When she got to the coffee shop, Polly gritted her teeth and cursed since the parking spaces in front of Sweet Beans were filled. "What in the hell?" she yelled. "All of a sudden, today, you all want coffee? We're never this busy!"
She parked in front of Pizzazz and ran across the street, then pulled up short when the normal allotment of customers was inside. "Where is everyone?" she asked Sky at the counter.
"There's a retreat at the quilt shop next door," he said, gesturing with his head. "They started early this morning. We had quite a rush there for a while. Lucky for us, they thought to tell us it was coming. That's why you get to see my pretty face today." He held out two cups and Polly put money on the counter, then took them from him.
"Thanks. I'll talk to you later. In a rush," she said and ran back to the front door.
"Good luck!" he called.
As she ran across the street, Henry stopped to let her pass and waved. She walked to the driver's side and waited for him to roll the window down, then handed him his coffee. "That was mean, making me pick yours up, too."
"I'm dawdling, so you won't be late," he said. "Hurry!"
"I'm hurrying. But why?" she asked.
"You'll see. Go on, get going." He waved her in front of him and she ran to her truck, jumped in and jammed the coffee into a cup holder.
Henry drove on down the street, tapping his brakes as he slowed his truck while waiting for her.
"He is such a weirdo," she said, backing out and following him. He pulled over to the right, put his hand out and waved her around. As she drove by, she shook her head and laughed. Henry just waved again.
Several cars were parked on the street in front of the Bell House when they arrived, but there was room for her to pull into the driveway. She parked, took up her coffee and jumped out, waiting for Henry to do the same.
"Now what was I in such a rush to get here for?" she asked.
"Come with me." He took her hand and led her behind the garage to where there was a group of people already in the room-sized hole in the ground.
"What's going on?"
"Just wait." Henry walked over to an older man, shook his hand and then beckoned for Polly to join them. "This is Professor Argual from Iowa State. He and his students are here to help me with the surprise."
Polly shook the professor's hand and then the man stepped forward. "Go ahead, James." He walked to the far wall of the room and motioned for Polly and Henry. "I think you can see better over here."
"What is this?" Polly whispered.
"You'll see."
She looked down into the room and realized that the students had dug out lines surrounding a rectangle in the wall. "Is that a...?"
Henry nodded.
James slipped what looked like a trowel in the right side of the space they'd delineated and ran it up to the top and around, then down to the bottom. Once he was satisfied that it would come free, he pushed the door and surprisingly, it swung open to the inside of another room.
"It worked," he said, loud enough for them to hear.
"What's in there?" Polly asked. Her feet moved before her brain and she headed for the ladder that had been dropped into the room.
Henry stopped her. "Let them do their job."
"But I want to see." As soon as it came out of her mouth, she knew it was ridiculous and stepped back. Turning to the professor, she asked, "Wouldn't the air be awful in there?"
He nodded. "With the images we received from the GPR, we knew that it was as close to the surface as this space, so early this morning, we poked holes in the ground to allow the atmosphere to clear." He smiled. "It also has the added benefit of allowing natural light into the room." The professor bent over. "Ella, what do you see?"
"Not much, professor," a girl called back. She stepped into the doorway. "No more bones, that's for sure. "Empty kegs and shelves of empty bottles. He had quite a production going on here, whoever it was."
"It has to be Franklin Bell," Polly said.
One of the other young people pressed past Ella and climbed the ladder enough to hand something to his professor. "We just found a stack of these. Thought you'd find it interesting."
Polly stepped over to see what he'd been handed and Argual passed it to her. "You'll like this," he said.
She found that she was holding a label for Franklin Bell's Corn Whiskey.
"Bell's Whiskey
Distilled and Bottled in Bellingwood, Iowa
Better than Good, A Balm for the Soul
None finer for medicinal purposes."
"This is fabulous," she said. "Are any of the bottles full?" She turned to Henry. "That would be some seriously aged whiskey."
James came back out into the main room and looked up. "We didn’t find any actual whiskey in there. Maybe the poor guy drank it all before he died."
Polly nodded, a little disappointed.
Then Henry took her aside. "They're going to be here for a while and after they've been through that room, they'll leave things as they are for us. You can do whatever you want with the bottles and kegs."
"Really?" she asked.
"Another group of students is coming over this afternoon from the engineering department to make sure the tunnel is safe and these kids will trek through it, checking to see if there's anything else of interest."
"That would be terrific," she said. "Can you believe it, Henry? This place had to have been a speakeasy. How fun is that?"
Professor Argual put his hand on her elbow. "It's good that you look at it that way."
"It's history. Whether it's good or bad," Polly said, "it's history. Prohibit
ion was a pretty significant time for America. Women finally started insisting on their rights and before anyone knew what was happening, they were voting. Just like men. It's hard to believe that women had to..." she paused. "And some still have to fight for equality." Polly hugged Henry. "I love you."
"I love you, too. What's that for?"
"You're just a good guy."
The professor looked at them and smiled when Polly realized that she'd said all of that in front of a relative stranger. "If you'll excuse me," he said, putting his hand on the ladder. "I want to get a look at this."
Polly and Henry walked back to the front of the house and when they got to his truck, she reached up and kissed him. "I forget sometimes how lucky I am to be married to a man that has never thought of me as less than anyone else."
"You shouldn't ever have to think that you're lucky to have that," he replied, touching her nose with his. "It disgusts me that any woman would worry about a man treating her that way. Anyone treating anyone that way." He gave his head a quick shake. "I can't think about it or I get too angry."
"Like I said," Polly replied. "I'm lucky."
"So am I." Henry put his hand on the door handle of his truck. "Am I safe to leave you here alone? Promise you won't go down there until someone tells you that it's safe?"
"Because I'm a poor weak woman?"
He laughed. "Hoisted with my own petard. I asked for that one, didn't I?"
"I'll be good and I'll be safe. Thank you for setting this up for me. It was fun. I can't wait to do something with that label."
"Because you will do something, won't you. Tell me you haven't already researched how to run a whiskey distillery."
Polly bit her lip with a grin.
"You did," he exclaimed.
"Yep. And it will never happen. It's harder to get a license to distill whiskey than it is to brew beer or make wine. I'm just not that interested in restoring history. But I think Lydia, Andy, Beryl and I could come up with something fun with the bottles and labels."
"Okay," he said, nodding. "I'm heading to work. Heath and I will be back again this afternoon."
As he drove away, Polly wandered over to the porch. Much of it would be finished by early next week if they kept up this pace. There were so many interesting and exciting things to be done here, but danged if they weren't all going to exhaust her. She walked back to the garage, opened the door, and took out the rake Eliseo had brought over. That side yard wasn't going to clean itself and he was planning to come over with the horses to run a tiller through the entire yard. At least they now knew where it was safe to traverse. She shuddered at the thought of one of those horses falling into a hole in the ground.
While Polly raked the yard, she thought about the bones she'd found on Monday. Those had to belong to Franklin Bell. No one knew what had happened to the young man. All of a sudden, one day, he was gone. She didn't believe for a minute that he'd drunk all of the whiskey in that room. It was too well sealed for him to have been in and out of it prior to dying. If it was Franklin, he was the one who built this place and would have never allowed himself to get trapped in that room.
She took out her phone and dialed the sheriff's office in Boone again, this time asking for Anita Banks.
"This is Anita. How may I help you?"
"Hi Anita, it's Polly Giller. What's up?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Polly wanted to take them back. What a silly thing to say to someone.
"Not much. What's up with you?"
Polly chuckled. "Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way. I was wondering if you could tell me anything more about those bones I found on Monday."
"You've been busy this week and it's only Thursday," Anita said. "Tell me you're done."
"I hope so. I was ready to be done after I climbed out of that hole in the ground. Do you know how he died? Was it even a he?" Polly asked.
"Let me see what I can find," Anita replied. "I just need to shut these two windows and open this program..." Anita cursed.
"What's wrong?"
"Damned computer. I keep telling them that if they want me to be a goddess, I need the proper tools. But those idiot IT boys think they know more than the cute girl. Because obviously, I'm an airhead."
Polly laughed again. Anita was far from being an airhead and those who treated her poorly would likely find themselves in a basement room, pecking away on old Royal manual typewriters.
"There," Anita said. "I let it know who's the boss. Now, give me a minute to log in and find what you need. Are you going to invite me up to see this place someday?"
"You're welcome to come any time," Polly said. "If you want to see it while things are in chaos, come now. If you want to see it when it's all finished, though, that could take some time."
"I heard some of the boys say there was a tunnel leading back to the house. Is that true?"
Polly nodded, caught herself and said, "It sure is. We're hoping to have that opened up in the next week or so. Some kids from the university are working to make sure it's safe and to make sure that they've found anything of importance. There's another room filled with empty bottles and barrels. They may not find anything else, but at this point, who knows."
"Here we go," Anita said. "They know that it was a male, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. Yada, yada, yada. Here it is. Two bullet holes. One in his skull and the other would have gone through his chest. One of the comments here is that it looked like an execution. Wow, Polly. You certainly find them."
"Is there any way of knowing when his death occurred? Was it really a hundred years ago?" Polly asked.
Anita took a moment and said, "They are waiting on more tests, but initial estimates point to the early nineteen hundreds."
"Do they have genealogical information on Franklin Bell to compare this to?"
"They sure do," Anita said. "There's a note here. They've sent out requests for any photographs of the Bell family to the Bellingwood library, our newspaper here, and the genealogical society in Boone, too. A student is going to attempt a skull reconstruction. That's kinda cool. I think that's all for now."
"That's great," Polly said. "Two bullet wounds. Do they know what kind of bullets?"
"Hmmm," Anita said. "Reading. Reading. No, they have the bullets, but haven’t finished identifying them yet. There's another note about looking for some historical weapons. Guess that one hasn't been answered yet."
"That's fine. Makes sense. Thank you so much."
"No problem. Do you need anything else? Wanna talk to Sheriff Merritt?"
"I've talked to him enough this week. But Anita..." Polly stopped. She was probably going too far now. "Can you tell me anything about the girl I found on the highway?"
"I can't," Anita said.
"Because you'll get in trouble?"
"Well, that and because we don't know anything yet. They scheduled the autopsy, but then the coroner broke her hand in a softball game."
"Ouch. That probably sets you back."
"We aren't all that busy," Anita said, "but yeah. It's too bad. We all hate it when we know there's a family out there who has no idea what happened to their kid."
"So you don't know if she's from around here?"
"We don't yet. Nobody's reported her missing and I have a program watching the regional missing person reports."
Polly took a breath. Something had been preying on her mind and though it was probably preposterous, it wouldn't hurt to say it out loud. "Have you looked at reports from Ohio?"
"Why Ohio?" Anita asked, then she made a sound in her throat. "Oh. That's a good idea. It’s doubtful, but we shouldn’t rule it out."
"If he's everything that Stephanie says he is, I wouldn't put it past him," Polly said. "And if this is real, I need to stop begging Stephanie to come back. She's right and should stay far, far away from here until we catch him."
"We?" Anita asked. "That kind of talk will have Aaron dropping you into protective custody."
"Whatever.
But if it is true, that means their father is already in Iowa and looking for them. He's not a nice man."
" I'll talk to Aaron and let him know what you said." Anita took a breath. "Polly, we really need to talk to Stephanie if he's in town, though. She's the only one who can tell us anything that would give us a clue on how to track him down."
"You're right, but that will be a difficult conversation to have with her. She's worked so hard to put him out of her head and has done everything she can to reduce his exposure to Kayla. I hate asking her to remember details about the man who treated her so badly."
"We can have a counselor here if that will help," Anita said.
"She has a therapist and Jeff is her rock. I don't know what I can do, but I'll try."
"Let me know when you're giving tours at the whiskey house," Anita said. "You always have interesting things going on in your life."
"I do wish it were quieter some days."
"Stay out of trouble. If Aaron needs anything more, I'll have him contact you."
Anita hung up and Polly stood there, staring at the ground. She almost wanted that poor girl she found on the highway to have been killed by Stephanie's father. That would mean there was only one deranged killer around. If it was anything else, well, she didn't want to consider that possibility.
CHAPTER TWELVE
No matter how much Andrew whined about blisters on his hands or Rebecca pleaded to just be allowed some free time since she worked so hard at school during the day, they were going over to the Bell House with Polly. They'd been under orders to finish their homework as soon as they got home from school and then they were expected to help.
There was no arguing with Polly. She wasn't leaving them alone and she needed as many hands to work as possible. Sylvie was all for it and brought work clothes every day for her son, knowing that if she didn’t, he’d find a way to leave them at school to get out of helping.
Most of it was just adolescent complaining, but sometimes Polly wanted to put her hands over her ears and sing loudly to avoid hearing one more whiny voice. Maybe she should just try that someday. Today, though, she'd ordered them to change clothes. She wasn't putting up with their noise any longer. Andrew was shocked. Polly didn't often yell at him. That was okay, she'd work with the shock for a while. When it wore off, she'd try something different. Rebecca was learning where Polly's limits were. There were times she pushed past them, but this afternoon she acquiesced. Polly knew that it probably had a lot to do with Kayla being gone. The phone call last night had, at the same time, made Rebecca feel both better and worse.
Reflecting Love's Charms (Bellingwood Book 14) Page 11
