Gee, he sure had a flattering opinion of me. Then again, I didn’t think highly of him either.
The doorknob turned. I shoved the key into my pocket and stood, dusting myself off while quickly making my way to the desk, the farthest point from the stove. I didn’t want Hank knowing I was over there.
I picked up a piece of paper. It was a list of “places to look” with no mention of the what. Edward had checked two places off the list: historical society and cemetery.
Only one was left on the list. Everton house. Had Edward been looking for a birth certificate or record to prove Georgia was an Everton?
Three
This was a terrible idea, I said to myself as I drove to the Everton mansion. A terrible idea that was likely to get me into trouble and give Ted a serious case of heartburn. I glanced at the key, lying so innocently on my passenger seat. Why had Edward, and I was assuming it was him, hidden the key in the broom? Why hadn’t he wanted his wife to know about it?
The next logical step in this mystery was coming to the Everton mansion to see if the key opened the door or something else in the house. If it wasn’t for the door, I’d see if my text to Gussie worked in getting me into the house. Now that some of the work was completed, one of the Buford brothers should agree it was safe for me to take memorabilia for safekeeping.
I turned off the main road, my car chugging up the steep incline of the driveway for the Everton house. How in the world had the Evertons made it up the hill when they had horse and buggies? I was having quite the struggle in my Malibu, and it had plenty of pep.
The large two-story brick house with elegant white pillars loomed at the top. It was a breathtaking home and the oldest and most majestic building in Eden. The Buford brothers had done a spectacular job at cleaning up the outside and restoring it to the previous glory I had only seen in pictures.
Ever since I was a young girl, the house had been in disarray. It had looked like one strong huff and puff from a big bad wolf would blow it right down. When I was stationed in Germany, my grandmothers had written that the county was considering demolishing the building because it was an eyesore, and there were concerns it was a danger since kids kept sneaking in. Sneaky kids, strong winds, and a crumbling house was a disaster in the making.
The historical society was enacted at the same time the town council organized a committee to vote to tear down the house. The historical society won the battle of tear it down or fix it up. The county turned over the care and maintenance of the house to the society nine years ago. It wasn’t until four months ago that the society actively started to put the house back to together. It had taken some time for them to gather all the funds. Taking over the care didn’t just mean hiring or completing maintenance themselves but financing it too. They should’ve known there was a reason the town council eagerly handed over the keys. The building was now the society’s problem, and the town was no longer on the hook for paying for repairs or demolition.
I drove around back where the visitor parking lot was located. The society didn’t want the ambiance for the historic structure ruined with parking spaces, so the front lawn remained and a parking lot was placed in the back. It was also a better choice as the land behind the house was relatively flat while the front had an eighteen percent incline.
There was an excavator and a dump truck near an overgrowth of weeds and the woods behind the house. Neither the Bufords nor their crew had arrived yet. Perfect. I’d test the key at the front and back door.
The lawn was still winter brown with a peek of green here and there. My favorite time of year was approaching, and I loved seeing the proof of spring and new beginnings. I liked the calmness after the holidays and the anticipation of the warming weather and the colors and scent of spring.
I stepped onto the first step, testing it. No creaks or groans. I ran my hand over the new rail for the staircase. It was exquisite. Wayne and Wyatt had taken care to restore the handrail to its former glory instead of replacing the carved oak wood. All the carvings, outside and inside, had been done by Rudolph Everton. I had only seen pictures of the work and hoped Wayne and Wyatt restored the built-ins bookcases and the grand staircase. Rudolph Everton had designed the house and did a lot of the carpentry work. It had taken him six years to complete it with his wife and daughters living in a tent, and later, a trapper’s shack in the woods. The girls had ranged in age from seven to newborn when the house was started. I was surprised Mrs. Edith Everton hadn’t killed her husband during the process.
I paused in front of the original carved oak door, snapping some photos of it for the scrapbook. I frowned. A newish looking bolt system was in the door. Drat. I should’ve taken into consideration that the locks might’ve been changed. The locks of the 1880s were nothing compared to today’s model. Maybe the Bufords kept the old lock and added on the bolt. The door knob looked antique.
I took out the key and compared it the lock. Nope. Or at least I didn’t think it fit. Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. I put the key into the lock cylinder and excitement wiggled through me. It fit. I turned it. Was that a click? I twisted the knob. No give. Using my shoulder for leverage, I twisted the knob again and pushed. Still wouldn’t budge.
A throat cleared behind me.
I turned.
Wyatt crossed his arms and scowled at me. “You really think you could break in? I have half a mind to call your grandmothers.”
I briefly wondered what the other half was contemplating. “I was testing out a key I found. It’s for the Everton house.”
“We put in a new lock.” Wyatt held out his hand. “Can I look at the key?”
“Feel the stem. Everton is scratched on it.”
Wyatt pulled off one of his heavy work gloves, his calloused fingers drifted over the metal. The annoyance on his face changed to surprise. “It sure does feel that way. Where did you find it? One of the reasons we changed the locks was because no one had a key to the place. We wanted to keep as much of the original house as possible.”
I was hesitant to tell him the truth. Hank had worked for them, and I didn’t want word getting back to him I took it from his mom’s house. I had no doubt Hank wouldn’t be happy about it. “I stumbled across it in my research for the scrapbook project.”
Wyatt turned the key over in his hands before returning it to me. “I replaced the locks, and this key would’ve been too small. There are trunks in the attic. I wonder if it opens one of them. I think they’ve been here since the Evertons snuck out of town. You’d think one of them would’ve wanted to stay since the town was basically theirs.”
“Theirs? You can’t own a town.”
“Half of the land in Eden was owned by the Evertons at one time or another.”
“Who owns it now?”
“The city has owned it for the last twenty years, and they’ve sold some of the land and properties to fund new roads, build the expo center five years ago, and update the hospital. It wasn’t till me and Wayne checked to make sure everything was legal with the Everton mansion that we discovered the building we bought for our business used to be Everton owned. Heck, the shopping center that Scrap This is in was built on former Everton land.”
“And the city can do that? Take property and sell it off.” I felt sick. Was that the info Edward was hiding from Georgia until he found a way to get it back for her? If Wyatt was correct, there was a lot of property, or money now, that was rightfully Georgia’s.
“If property is abandoned and someone takes ownership of it for ten years then it can become theirs. That’s the part I understood from what Davis said.”
My heart thudded. “Steve?”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “The assistant prosecutor. The guy you used to date.”
“I know who Steve is. I just don’t know why you went to him with this.”
“To understand all the gobbledygook that was in the town’s records and the la
w about adverse possession. We had to pull the county records to get building permits and didn’t understand what it all meant. Wayne and I took it to Steve so he could translate it to every day English.”
I wanted to ask if Steve said anything about what would happen if someone later claimed the property was theirs, but I didn’t want to plant the idea in Wyatt’s head. Was that why Steve’s name was on Edward’s list? Had he talked to Steve before he died?
I pushed all my questions to the back of my brain. Right now, I needed inside the attic to hunt for the truth. “I was hired by the historical society to document the town’s history, so I’d like to check out the attic.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“Someone is going to have to sort through everything up there and determine what’s of historical value,” I said. “I’m sure there’s more important construction stuff your crew can do. I’ve already been doing a lot of research, so I’ll know what items are valuable. And you’ll be saving money by not paying one of your workers to do this menial task.”
“Fine, since it’ll be quicker than arguing with you. But I’ll go up with you and do a quick inventory so I know what’s up there. I don’t want Wayne getting mad at me because I didn’t make sure it was safe for you. Your grandmothers would give us a tongue lashing of a lifetime, then we’d get it from our ma. Ain’t sure which one I’m afraid of more.”
I understood that. I wasn’t sure who’d I rather have on my case: my grandmothers or Gussie Buford. I followed Wyatt up the stairs to a small landing on the second floor. He reached up and grabbed a small piece of rope hanging down from the ceiling.
“Stand back a bit.” Wyatt tugged it down. “I’ll go up first.”
I wasn’t sure if it was chivalry or him wanting to check out the place which had him climbing up first, but I was willing to go along with it. If the aging ladder supported his bulky, muscular frame, it’d take my weight. I’d also let him stomp around and chase out any creepy crawlies making the attic their home.
I listened to Wyatt walking around the area. Not hearing, or seeing, anything scurrying or jumping from the attic, I climbed up the ladder. A small streak of light shone through a stained-glass window. I was saddened to see a large crack in the beautiful window. Hopefully Wayne and Wyatt could find someone to restore the glass. It was a stunning piece.
“Where should I start?”
“This trunk looks interesting.” Wyatt yanked on the lid. “It’s locked. Try your key.”
I walked over. The trunk was caked with dust and grime. It was a plain, brown trunk. The only thing remarkable were the faded stickers on the side, looked like someone in the Everton household had done some traveling at one time. No go. “It’s too large.”
“Maybe there’s a key around here somewhere.” Wyatt tilted his chin toward the corner near the entrance to the attic. “If I was you, I’d start sorting through the box filled with pictures and make a pile of what you want. Looks like Wayne already assigned someone to clear out the attic and who knows what they’ll do with them.”
There was a box of trash bags, boxes, and packing tape. “It’ll be easier if I looked through the box at Scrap This. Can you take it down for me and take it downstairs?”
“Do I look like a pack mule?”
“Please? I’d do it myself, but I don’t think I can get the bags down the ladder without falling. They’re kind of heavy.” Plus, I was on a mission for Georgia and couldn’t tell Wyatt what I was trying to find, and I wasn’t going to know what I was trying to find until I saw it.
“Fine, I’ll do it for you.” Wayne chucked things inside the box.
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
“Don’t think I won’t remember that.”
I moved some boxes out of the way, searching for another trunk. There was a small chest in the corner. “I found another trunk.”
Wyatt shoved the box to the opening. “I’m going to take this down, then I’ll be right back. Don’t open it until I get here. I don’t want anyone saying something went missing. This way we can vouch for each other.”
“Okay.” He had a point. I doubted anyone knew what was up here, but if I found something important in the chest, it’d be good to have someone back me up on where I discovered it. It didn’t mean I couldn’t test the key to see if it unlocked the trunk.
I slipped the key into the lock. The latch gave. I relocked it, resisting the urge to open the trunk. I didn’t want my fingerprints being the only ones in the dust. If Wyatt or I did have to do any explaining, it would be better if there were two sets on the trunk.
“I hope you didn’t open it,” Wyatt said, heaving himself into the attic.
I let out a breath of relief, feeling silly about how I worked myself into a slight panic. “I didn’t.” I inserted the key into the lock.
Wyatt tugged the lid open and let out a low whistle. The chest was packed to the top with old photographs and documents. On the very top was a newspaper article about the inaugural opening of the bank in Eden. “This thing is packed. I bet you’ll be able to find a lot about the Evertons in here.”
Excitement blossomed in me. On a quick inspection, that trunk didn’t seem to hold anything about the family, but maybe there were some documents and photographs on the bottom. I couldn’t wait to sort through everything. “At least I know where the Evertons stored their personal items.”
Wyatt examined a few things. “Most of this is business or town related. Nothing about the family. I wonder if there’s another trunk around here.”
We gazed around. There were stacks of old coats in one area and blankets in another. I pointed at the mounds of material. “Maybe there’s something under one of those piles.”
“If you don’t mind looking, I’ll load this in your car for you. No sense taking all the stuff out. The trunk has protected everything pretty well.”
“Thanks.” I started for the mound of blankets.
Wyatt grabbed my hand. “On second thought, let me poke around there for a bit first.” Wyatt smiled. There was some tension in the simple gesture.
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “You don’t trust me.”
Wyatt shook his head. “I trust you. I just think I should give the first look-see.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
I narrowed my eyes even tighter, though I didn’t think the evil eye was working with the dim lighting in the attic. “That’s not an answer.”
“Because certain animals and reptiles like to burrow. I figured if someone was to wake up a slumbering animal, better to be me.”
I whole-heartedly agreed. Stepping back, I granted Wyatt plenty of space. Wyatt delicately picked up blankets one by one and shook them. Using his hands, he shoved at the pile. Nothing scurried out. Yet. There had to be a better and quicker way. I scanned the room. A yard stick was sticking out from behind some chairs. I brought it to Wyatt.
“I found this.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather not. There are some nice quilts here and they look kind of old. I don’t want to rip any.”
While Wyatt inspected the other pile, I pulled out any of the quilts that looked handmade and placed it on top of the trunk, I figured it was best to get them out of the attic. It didn’t appear any were damaged, and I didn’t want to take any chances that renovating the attic might ruin them. I wasn’t sure if all the workers would take such care of them as Wyatt.
“There’s another chest here. It’s made of cedar. Doesn’t look like it was for traveling, but it is locked.”
I went over to Wyatt and removed an old Army surplus style coat from the chest to get a better look at it. I tossed it over to the side where it mingled with some tablecloths and other household linens. The chest was simple in design, and the cedar wood was in its natural state. There were a few spots where the wood was starting to warp, probably from
being stored up in the attic where it was subject to the shifting hot and cold temperatures without much protection. “It’s a hope chest.”
“A what?”
I ran my hand over the smooth wood. “Unmarried young women used to put clothing, kitchen linens, towels, and quilts in them. Anything they’d need if they got married. I wonder which daughter this belonged to.”
“Since none of them married, it could be any one. Though it’s probably the oldest. Ma and Pa Everton probably ditched whatever belonged to their other two girls after they ran off with criminals.”
The story was the two youngest daughters, Laura and Mabel, went to the bank to run an errand for their father when they walked into a bank robbery in progress. Instead of being frightened, the sisters helped the robbers load up the money, and then hitched rides on the back of the horses.
While Mr. and Mrs. Everton loved the town of Eden and planned on their daughters marrying and having many children to increase the Everton name in Eden, the girls had other plans—namely leaving the town their father built. No one ever said what it was about the town the girls disliked so much, though many speculated that Mr. Everton’s rumored iron fist maybe wasn’t such a rumor, and the girls yearned to be free from his controlling ways. It seemed unlikely as Mr. Rudolph Everton had been beloved by the community, and before coming to West Virginia was a well-known philanthropist in Virginia...or so the story goes. I hadn’t been able to find any verification about any of the legends regarding our founding families, including the bank robbery.
“Too bad we can’t get in here.” Wyatt patted the top then examined the back of the chest. “I’d hate to bust into it. I might be able to pry off the latches.”
“What if the key opens up both trunks? It is a skeleton key.” I placed the key in the lock and turned. It clicked. My heart raced. What were we about to discover? Excitement shook my hands and sweat beaded on my head. I could hardly contain myself.
“Wyatt, where the heck are you?” Wayne shouted. “I need you ASAP.”
Altered to Death Page 3
