Dark Deeds: An Asher Blaine Mystery (Asher Blaine Mysteries Book 2)

by Alice Sabo

  “Asher?”

  “That’s me.”

  He recognized the voice, but couldn’t place him.

  The man offered his hand. “Imre.”

  Asher shook hands then beckoned him in. “Ah, you’re here to start torturing me.”

  “Looks like someone already started,” he said with a gesture towards Asher’s battered face. “Do I smell coffee?” He had a slight accent that only came out on certain words. Asher pegged it as Eastern Europe, Hungarian maybe.

  Asher played host, offering him breakfast. Then he showed Imre the card for the laundry and grocery service, hoping that the Cahills would still be speaking to him. Over scrambled eggs and a lot more coffee, they planned out the fencing lessons. Asher called Ed to fit in riding practice and then called Oscar to see if he could figure out when he would be training for any stunts. Oscar was next door, so he said he’d come over to sort it out.

  The three of them were in the kitchen juggling calendars when George arrived. He walked in without knocking. “Here you are. Oscar, I have been searching all over for you.”

  Oscar held up his phone. “They have this new device. . .”

  George waved away the comment. “Imre! You finally got here.” George patted him on the shoulder. “Well this is perfect. You can all come with me to see the mine.”

  “The mine?” Oscar asked. “There’s a mine?”

  “Yes. And it just so happens that I got us exclusive access.” George sounded giddy.

  Asher didn’t say anything. Jeff had told him that the mine had collapsed. Mrs. Wheatly had said it was unstable. That didn’t bode well for filming locations. They’d probably get out there to find that it was unsuitable.

  “Exclusive, nice. How’d you do that?” Oscar asked. He pulled out a chair, but George declined, preferring to lean against the doorjamb.

  “Very roundabout. Turns out that meadow we want for the battlefield isn’t on that guy’s land. Well, half of it is.” George said. “Pain in the ass having to rent from two people.”

  “It’s not Erwin’s?” Asher asked. “Jeff said it was his uncle’s.” Asher wasn’t surprised to hear about this wrinkle. Erwin didn’t strike him as the most trustworthy soul.

  “Nope. Bastard was going to charge us for land he didn’t even own. He only owns the front part, from the road. We wouldn’t have known if the body hadn’t shown up.”

  “Body?” Imre asked, a pale eyebrow raised in interest.

  George shuddered. “You don’t want to know. But it was actually on somebody else’s land. Sheriff told me, and I got in touch with the right owner. I’m gonna need both pieces for the battlefield and village. Turns out he’s the guy owns the shopping center we’re using. So, we got talking. And he tells me that his family owns the mine, too.”

  A couple of things came together in Asher’s head. First of all, Mrs. Wheatly had said it was like Aunt Sue to move a dead body. She’d also said she found it odd that it was on Erwin’s land. Now George was saying that it wasn’t Erwin’s land. If the landowner also owned the mine, that made it Jenkins land. Sheriff Danson had said that the John Doe was shot. Aunt Sue’s bloody bandage could have been hiding a bullet wound. So had the victim shot at her, and she’d killed him in self-defense? Or had someone else shot the two of them and Aunt Sue was the luckier one. There was something else that he couldn’t pull out of his memory. Something Aunt Sue had said. George shook him out of his reflections.

  “Come on. I want you all to take a gander and see if we can use any of it for the labyrinth scenes.”

  Asher couldn’t remember if he had done any filming in a mine. He did remember working in a cave and it had been freezing cold. As soon as he’d read this script, he’d been worried about those scenes in the underground labyrinth. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but filming in natural locations always had bizarre glitches. That usually resulted in lots of takes and spending the whole day underground wasn’t his idea of fun.

  He had the appointment with the Cahill’s lawyer this morning and was thinking about begging off when his phone rang. He stepped into the living room to answer it. Very few people had this number. The ringtone was unfamiliar. When he checked, it made him smile to see that Jeff had loaded his number and a photo, a smiling Cahill face, and picked a jaunty ringtone. “Jeff?”

  “Uncle Bobby’s passed. We need to make arrangements,” Jeff said in a rush.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “The sheriff thinks Aunt Sue did it.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jeff. Do you think she did?”

  “No. I mean, well, it wouldn’t make sense. We hardly ever saw Uncle Bobby anyway. Aunt Sue didn’t like him, but she wouldn’t kill him.”

  “How’s your mom doing?”

  “I. . . It’s weird. She acts like she doesn’t care.”

  Asher tried hard not to say anything, but he felt bad for Jeff. “She might not remember who he is,” he said gently.

  “Oh. Huh.”

  “I’m sorry,” Asher said again, at a loss for words.

  “Well, that kinda makes me feel better. Thinking she doesn’t remember him is better than not caring.” Jeff sighed. “So, I gotta go. I called the lawyer and canceled the appointment.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you need the car?”

  “No. I don’t have PT today. You do what you need to do. I’ll be fine.” He hung up with Jeff feeling very sorry for the family. When he turned around, all three men were watching him.

  “Jeff’s uncle died.”

  “Who is Jeff?” Imre asked.

  “My assistant and driver.”

  “Local kid,” George butted in. “And taking up a little too much of your time I think.”

  Asher wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe Ellie had called George to tell him to lean on Asher about getting involved in the Cahill’s family affairs. However, now that Jeff had canceled, he had no good excuses to avoid George’s mine inspection.

  Asher grabbed a jacket and a flashlight. He pawed through a couple drawers in the kitchen rummaging for things that one should take into a mine.

  “Come on, let’s go. Bus is leaving. What are you hunting for?” George asked.

  “I don’t know.” Asher pocketed some odds and ends: a granola bar, a pen knife, matches, a packet of tissues. “You never know when you might need something.”

  Oscar wandered back into the kitchen. Asher was pleased to see the he had gotten a jacket also. “What’re we waiting for?”

  “Asher needs to bring some things,” George said teasingly.

  Oscar cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. “George, I don’t know if you should bring him along. He’s a magnet for bad luck.”

  George grinned. “Yes, but somehow he always gets out of it alive.”

  Chapter 32

  Asher hunkered down in the back seat, as George drove his outrageously large, pumpkin orange SUV down the snaking, narrow road to the Jenkins Mine. He tried staring out the window to distract himself from his premonition of doom. Off to one side of the road, a long body of water sparkled in the sunshine. Clusters of willows, starting to show their fall colors, sank roots into the rocky shore. A sudden breeze snatched a cloud of bright yellow leaves, tossing them across the water.

  “Beautiful,” Asher murmured.

  Oscar leaned past him to look out Asher’s window. “Nice, but no boat ramps.”

  Asher eyed the thick woods that marched down to the sheer rock surrounding the lake. “Can’t see how you could get to the water.”

  George took a curve too fast, tires squealing as he skidded. Imre whooped. Asher planted his arms, bracing himself.

  “Easy there,” George soothed, giving him a wink in the rearview mirror. “Just misjudged how sharp it was, that’s all.”

  “Please go slower,” Asher said through clenched teeth. “These roads are treacherous.”

  “Got it,” George said. He slowed down a little, not as much as Asher would have preferred.

  The ne
xt bend took them up. The road continued to climb steeply between mossy rock walls. The paving ended abruptly in a fenced clearing that might have served as a parking lot for the mine in its heyday. A cinder block building with a tin roof and small cement stoop was the only structure in the area. It looked like it had never been painted, acquiring a weather-stained patina over the years. Narrow barred windows, dust streaked and yellowed, ran in pairs down the sides. Three crumbling steps led up to a windowless steel door secured with a hefty padlock. John Landers was waiting on the steps. George waved at him as Asher, Oscar and Imre got out of the car.

  “I’m so glad you asked to see it,” Landers said with a grin. “I’ve never been down here myself.”

  “Is it safe?” Asher asked.

  “I talked to my cousin this morning. She said the unsafe part is for mining. So no digging. Inspecting should be fine. It caved in years ago, and she thinks it’s settled enough.” He gestured toward a hill. Asher realized there were train tracks, barely visible in the grass, that ran up to the edge of the hill, disappearing under it. “That’s where the entrance to the mine used to be” Landers said.

  Asher glanced at Oscar who tipped his head in skeptical shrug. “We’re going into a collapsed mine.” Asher didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until George thumped him on the arm.

  “He says it’s perfectly safe,” George said with a scowl. “Let’s go.” He marched over to the building.

  Landers unlocked the padlock, then led them into an office. There were a couple of old fashioned wooden desks and filing cabinets, everything covered in a thick layer of dust. Faded pictures on the wall had freckled Cahills and hawk-nosed Jenkinses in them, smiling, standing together with kids and wives. There were also pictures of gems and framed reports. Hand-painted letters on the back wall spelled out Heart’s Desire Mine.

  “Nobody’s been in here in ages,” Landers said in a whisper.

  Asher felt like he needed to whisper, too, as if he could feel the ghosts of those killed. Or maybe those of the previous generation who had worked shoulder to shoulder establishing the mine. He wondered if they looked down in disapproval of what remained of their legacy.

  Landers picked his way carefully through the office to a narrow hallway. Dust rose in their footsteps as they followed. Asher pulled the neck of his T-shirt up over his nose as Oscar started sneezing. Just inside the hallway, a large map was tacked to the right wall, a row of handwritten checklists marched down the left. Asher studied the map to locate the mine, finding it clearly marked on Jenkins property. A red border delineated Jenkins land down to the road where the shopping center was being built. All the land north of the mine had a blue border. Asher checked the legend. Blue indicated Cahill land. He blinked at the huge swath of land that Erwin now owned.

  George poked him in the ribs as he passed him. “No dawdling.”

  “Gran said that since the main entrance is gone, this is the only way in now,” Landers said as he led them to a steel staircase. They clanged down two flights of steps losing the light as they descended.

  Asher pulled out his flashlight, pleased with himself for bringing it. At the bottom of the staircase was a small foyer that ended in another large steel door. A long bench ran along one wall holding a row of lanterns. Asher had expected to see oil lamps, but these were all battery powered, too modern for when the mine had last been worked. “These are new.”

  George rounded on him. “How the hell would you know?”

  “When did the mine collapse?” Asher asked Landers.

  “Didn’t just collapse,” Landers said gruffly. “The Cahills planted a bomb.” He handed out lanterns to all of them.

  “When?” Oscar asked.

  Landers shrugged. “Before I was born. Seventies I think.”

  Asher held up his lantern. “Didn’t have LED back then.”

  “Huh.” Landers looked at the bench. “I think this is the only way in.”

  “The dust in the office wasn’t disturbed,” Oscar added. “Nobody’s come in that way in a long time.” He looked around. “Not a lot of dust down here.”

  A quiver of unease shook Asher. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut.

  Oscar pointed at the far corner, under the staircase. “Another door.”

  Asher walked back to shine his light on it. “Says air shaft.”

  Oscar followed him. He shone his light on the ground, showing muddy footprints. “Somebody’s coming in this way.”

  “Must be inspectors or something,” Landers said weakly. “Elizabeth said it was okay to come down here. I. . .I’ll let her know somebody’s been in here.” He went to stand by the door into the mine. “All ready?”

  The rest of them turned on their lanterns, lighting up the small room. This door wasn’t padlocked. Landers pulled the door open and led them into total darkness.

  Asher wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the reality was a bit lacking. They came through into another disused, industrial foyer-like area. Feeling uneasy, he checked the corners. To the left and right, narrow doorways yawned open to more darkness. Across from them was a broad arch, also totally black.

  Landers held up his lantern to show signs tacked to the wall pointing in different directions. He indicated each sign as he gave them the low down. “Elizabeth said the lower gallery is flooded, so we can’t go there. The west spur was the newest, and they only got about forty feet in. No point going there. The east spur leads down to a natural cavern with an aquifer that feeds Black Pond.”

  “Aunt Sue lives by Black Pond,” Asher sputtered. There was a chill in the air that wasn’t simply the temperature. He was getting a very bad feeling. His instincts had gotten an upgrade since his run in with a serial killer and he’d learned to trust his hunches. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was feeling very jittery.

  Landers turned, swinging his lantern with the movement. The light splashed against the walls showing more rough cut stone. “You have folks around here?”

  “No, she’s a Cahill,” Asher said. “But isn’t this all Jenkins land? How could she have a cabin so close?”

  “North side of the pond is all Cahill land,” Landers said.

  “Erwin’s?” Asher asked.

  “Um, no, I think that part belongs to Alma.”

  Asher grabbed Landers’s arm. “Alma? Are you sure?”

  “Uh, no, not really. But I think I heard Gran say something about that.”

  “Asher, chat later,” George snapped. “I want to see this cavern. A pond would be perfect.”

  Asher had to bite his lip to stop himself from interrogating Landers. If the land actually belonged to Alma, then that meant that Jeff’s dad had left his land to his family and not Erwin. He wished he’d had a better chance to look at the map in the office. Maybe he could ask Landers if he could borrow the map to show Jeff and the lawyer.

  “Hey, stop daydreaming!” George beckoned from the doorway. Asher hadn’t noticed them leaving. He hurried to join them, bringing up the rear as Landers led them deeper into the mine.

  The tunnel was narrow and low. The walls were rough with tool marks. Asher hunched his shoulders anticipating running into a protrusion at some point. A smack in the head seemed mandatory for any of his adventures lately, although he wasn’t sure if his brains could handle any more rattling. The air was cool but not cold, with a damp, earthy smell. He shrugged into his jacket and patted his pockets hoping he wouldn’t need any of the random emergency supplies he’d collected.

  After a few minutes, they came out into an intersection. The ceiling was higher and the crossing tunnel was much wider. He finally saw the rest of the tracks he’d seen out front. The men spread out investigating the new space. Their lanterns seemed to throw less light in the bigger area. Landers went over to another signpost.

  “Okay. I think this one should take us down to the cavern.” He pointed to a small side tunnel.

  Asher didn’t like the tentative tone to his statement. But when Landers set off int
o another dark tunnel, he followed the bobbing lights. Asher’s hands were cold, but he couldn’t tell if it was nerves or ambient temperature. He zipped up his jacket, wishing he’d brought something warmer. They walked in silence, only the soft sounds of footsteps in old dry dirt shushing against the tunnel walls. The temperature dropped a bit more, and the damp dirt smell was replaced with an acrid stink.

  They came out of the tunnel onto a wide wooden staircase that went down a dozen steps to a broad platform with a waist-high railing. Landers held up his lantern, but the light was swallowed by the immense darkness. “I think this is the cavern.”

  George was the first one down the stairs. Asher hesitated at the mouth of the tunnel. The smell had triggered a sense of panic. He wasn’t sure what it meant. He thought he recognized it. Something from the hospital? The odor had an old urine reek to it, but something more. For an instant, he was back in that alley, hiding behind a dumpster while a doped-up killer shot at him.

  George startled him out of his fearful reminiscence. “Asher, bring your lantern down here.”

  The stairs shimmied under Asher’s weight as he descended.

  “How high up are we?” George asked leaning over the railing with his lantern. “Are there more stairs down?”

  Asher joined him at the railing feeling the deck sway slightly under his weight. “Is this thing safe?” he asked as the others joined them.

  “What is that stink?” Oscar asked.

  “Guano?” Landers offered.

  “I hate bats,” Oscar grumbled.

  A tingling on Asher’s neck preceded all the hair on his body bristling up as a very old, very bad memory surfaced. It was from a time when he didn’t much care about having a future. Back when he partied with anyone who could supply his vices, and learned some very evil lessons. “No, that’s meth.”

  A gunshot echoed around the cavern. Oscar and Imre hit the deck, sending a deep vibration through it. Asher grabbed George and pulled him down. “Douse the lights,” he hissed at Landers.