"Oh, baby," he croaked, his throat obviously as dry as his lips. "Thank God. I didn't think I'd ever see you again." He held on to her a moment, then drew back. "What happened? How did I get here?"
"We were hoping you could tell us," Helen said. "You came through that wall."
He fell back against the cushions and covered his eyes. "I. . .." He licked his lips.
"Here, drink this. You look like you could use it." Helen lifted his head and brought the glass to his lips.
He took several sips and pushed it away.
Claire continued to hold his hand. "Honey, do you remember anything?"
He closed his eyes, and his head lolled from side to side. "Prison," he mumbled. "I was in some kind of prison. It was cold."
Claire dabbed the washcloth to his bloodied forehead. "A week ago you came out to the island with Greg and Richard. You talked to Dad about our buying the island. Don't you remember?"
"Talked to Paddy. “Fabian winced and reached for the water glass Helen was still holding. After a couple more sips he spoke again. "He said he'd consider the proposal. Sounded promising. Went to the spa with Richard. He left early. I was alone." He closed his eyes. "Can't remember anything else."
"We'd better get a doctor."
"No." Fabian caught her by the sleeve. "I'll be okay.
"Are you sure, darling? You look terrible."
"How long did you say I've been gone? A week?"
"Yes. You left last Monday."
"Felt like a long time, but it was so dark. I had no way of knowing. Someone must have knocked me out while I was in the locker room. I'd just gotten dressed. Next thing I remember I was in some kind of prison. At least, I thought that's what it was. My hands were tied in front of me and my feet. I was tied to metal bars like a dog. Barely enough rope to move around. I could hear water. Whoever put me there left me a bottle of water. And food."
Helen glanced at Claire. "Which means they didn't mean for him to die, at least not right away."
"Ted and Patrick were in the tunnel. Maybe they went in to give him more food. They must have lied about not being able to get through the gate. But why? Why would they put him in there?"
"I haven't a clue." Helen stood and set the water glass on the table. "How did you manage to get free?"
"For a while I didn't even try. Oh man, I was so scared. It was so dark. All I could do was sleep. I don't know how long I was there. All I know is that I woke up and realized I had to do something. I ... uh ... I chewed through the rope on my hands." His rope-burned wrists attested to his ordeal.
"Can you walk?"
"I think so. I've been walking and crawling around the tunnels for. . .." He frowned and shook his head. "I don't know how long. It's a maze. Thought I was going to die in there."
"How did you manage to get up here? You're on the fifth floor."
He frowned. "I'm not sure. I stayed against the walls. I finally found some stairs and began to climb. I saw a light and heard this music. It must have been coming from this room. Tried to get to it, but I couldn't figure out how. The light went out. That was it. I knew I was going to die and just fell forward. All of a sudden the wall started moving. Then I saw an opening and I came through."
Helen stepped over to the wall and looked again for some kind of trigger or mechanism with which to open it but could see nothing. "Marcie is missing. Did you see her in there?"
"No. I thought I heard someone crying once—I'm not sure when. I tried to follow the sound. I heard voices several times but couldn't tell what they were saying. Not sure it was real. Could hear a lot of things, echoes, voices. I thought I would go mad trying to find a way out."
She shook her head. "Richard and Greg both said you left the island with them. If that's true, how did you get back here?"
"I remember sailing out with them, but. . .. My ring. Claire, I lost my ring. I must have come back out to the castle that night to find it. I don't remember."
"Well, let's get you into bed. I'm sure Mary won't mind if we use hers," Helen said.
The two women helped him to his feet and supported him as he walked into the bedroom. Helen left the two of them alone while she went down to the kitchen to get a bowl of soup for him. He needed medical attention and she would have to call the sheriff, but for the moment, she’d get him some food and try to glean more information
Helen put the soup and crackers as well as tea and scones on the tray for all of them. She started to go back up the stairs when she remembered the dumbwaiter. She might as well use it, rather than carry the heavy tray up all those stairs. She opened the small door and pressed a button that should have brought the car from wherever it was to the kitchen. Nothing happened. She found a flashlight in one of the drawers and peered into the dark, empty space. The rope on one of the pulleys was broken.
Helen closed the door and made her way back up the stairs. Once in Mary's suite, she set the tray on the coffee table and knocked on the bedroom door.
Claire came out. Her smile lit up her entire face. "He's showering. Can you believe it? He's alive."
"It's a little too soon for rejoicing, I'm afraid. We still don't know that we can trust him. He was here in the castle. He admits to leaving the island and that business about coming back to get the ring, I’m not sure I buy it. He could have killed Paddy."
"No. He didn't know about Dad's death. He said he didn't take the money or the jewelry. He's been set up. He was crushed when I told him Dad was gone. He saw the money in Dad's safe. Dad had opened the safe to show Fabian some papers. Dad told him someone had been stealing from him and he intended to find out who. He even told Fabian he was hiring a detective."
"He told Fabian that? I thought the detective was hired to track down information about Fabian." Helen opened the box of crackers and placed a slice of cheese on top.
"Maybe Paddy didn't tell him about the detective at all," Helen continued. "Maybe he found out and killed him, and is lying now to make us think Paddy trusted him."
"He didn't hit himself on the head. He didn't lock himself up in the. . .whatever secret passageways or tunnels are running through this place. For whatever reason, someone wanted him out of the way."
"Maybe. The only thing I'm sure of right now is that there really is another way into this castle and someone is apparently using it. There must be an entrance on nearly every floor."
Helen let her gaze wander over the wall again. What had triggered the door to open? And what was she going to do about it? "Let's not tell anyone we have Fabian yet. Maybe we can use the element of surprise."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure. Find a way into the passageway. Wait to see who comes. If the killer left Fabian there with food and water, he'll most likely come back. Maybe I can find some clue as to who has been using it. If nothing else, we can get in through the cave." She rose and went to the phone.
"Who are you calling?"
"The sheriff. She needs to know."
"Please don't. She'll arrest him."
Fabian emerged from the bedroom. The transformation was shocking. His dishwater blond hair shone in the dim light. Clean-shaven and dressed in a bathrobe Claire must have loaned him, he looked as though he could have been a model. "What's this about my being arrested?"
"Sheriff Stone thinks you killed the detective. Trace Peterson. There's a warrant out for your arrest."
His blue gaze shifted to Helen. "I didn't kill anyone. I swear. Trace was a great guy."
"You knew him?"
"Yeah. I recommended him to Paddy. I'd hired him to find out who stole Claire's jewelry and tried to set me up for it."
"You told Paddy that?"
He nodded. "He said he might as well use the same guy."
"Fabian," Helen said, "the report Trace sent to Paddy said you were heavily into gambling."
"What?" Fabian shook his head. "I don't gamble. I mean . . . sure, I've played a few games, but I've got better things to do with my money."
"You have no money," Claire said. "Your bank account was cleaned out the same day you went to see Dad."
"That's impossible." He rubbed his forehead.
"It’s true. I asked Greg to make sure you had money in your account and that you weren't conning me. He told me yesterday."
"Claire, you have to believe me. I didn't take Paddy's money. I didn't clean out my account. Someone else must have. I wouldn't leave you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Helen wasn't certain why she believed him. Perhaps it was the depth of sincerity and pain in his blue eyes. Perhaps it was her desire to see her cousin finally hooked up with a man she could trust. She put her resolve to call the sheriff on the back burner. Maybe she'd call Chad instead. He might be more apt to give Fabian's story credence.
"My wallet was missing when I woke up. It would have been easy enough to forge my signature."
"Have you any idea who might have done this?" Helen asked.
Before he could answer, the music began to play.
Claire jumped and backed up against the door, her eyes wide with fright.
"What in the. . . ?" Fabian stared at the gramophone.
"I thought I unplugged the darned thing."
"You did. The cord is just lying there."
"Someone is playing games again." Helen tried to block out the eerie sounds and concentrate again on finding a way to access the passageway. She tapped on the wall. "Wait a minute." She walked to the gramophone and flipped the on/off switch. Nothing happened.
"What are you doing?" Advancing back into the center of the room, Claire hooked an arm around Fabian's.
"Earlier, I heard the music. I thought maybe the switch here might have had something to do with the door opening. Apparently not." She frowned.
She heard a thunk against the wall. "Shh. Someone is in the passageway."
Fabian squared his shoulders and clenched his fists. "It's probably the guy who knocked me out. He's come looking for me. I'd like to see how tough he is face-to-face."
"Not yet. Let's go into the bedroom." They ducked back into the adjoining room and extinguished the candles. Moonlight shone through the balcony window. The panel slid to the side. Two figures crept into the sitting room. Their flashlight beams bounced across the walls and onto the floor, then settled briefly on each of their faces.
"Patrick and Ted," Claire whispered. "Looks like they were lying after all."
Chapter Twenty Five
What was that?" Ted said, training the light on the bedroom door.
The three figures behind it stood statue-still and waited. Helen held her breath, expecting them to discover their whereabouts at any moment.
"I didn't hear anything." Patrick walked to the open space and shined his light back inside. "It was probably a mouse."
Helen relaxed some and peered through the partly open door.
"This is the room where her doll was," Patrick went on.
Ted, apparently satisfied they were alone, turned back to Patrick. "Yeah, but where is she? We must have been through every passageway in the castle."
"She has to be in here. You saw the dogs. They came to the wall and stopped. She must have figured out how to slide the panel open."
"I don't think that's possible. Maybe we'd better go back through it. We may have missed something."
"Hold it." Fabian scurried out of the room before Helen could stop him. "You aren't going anywhere."
"Fabian?" Patrick shined the flashlight beam in Fabian's face. When Helen and Claire emerged, he turned the light on them. "Aunt Claire? What are you doing here?"
Helen revealed herself as well. "Maybe it would be best if you told us how you got in here."
"Through the cave," Ted answered without hesitation. "We took a sledgehammer and busted through the gate."
Patrick eyed them suspiciously. "When we couldn't find Marcie anywhere else, I figured she might have found another way into the passageways."
"But you haven't found her," Helen said.
"No. We were so sure. We've been searching the tunnels for two hours. It's totally awesome. Someone could live in there if they were into dark and damp and rats." He shuddered and shifted his gaze to Fabian. "You still haven't told me how you got here. What's going on?"
Fabian told them about his ordeal of being hit on the head and taken to the passageway.
When he'd finished, Patrick eyed him warily. "If you've been in here all that time, you couldn't have killed that detective."
"I hope the police believe me. I'm not a gambler or a killer." He ran a hand across his forehead.
Patrick frowned. "Do you think Grandpa hired the detective to find out about someone else? And that person falsified the papers?"
Helen considered the possibility. If that person discovered that Paddy had hired a detective, might he have been afraid of what the detective and Paddy might learn?
"All I know," Fabian said, "is that I've been locked up in there since Monday."
Helen glanced at the opening in the wall and frowned. "Why is it still open? Before, when Fabian came through, it closed immediately."
"There's a mechanism on the inner wall that can be set to keep the door from closing," Ted said.
"How did you know that?" Helen peered inside. "You'd said earlier you couldn't remember."
"I . . . um . . . I'm not sure. Maybe I was in here as a kid."
"Hmm." Helen gave her shoulders a shrug. Maybe it was as simple as that. Or maybe he'd been through the tunnels more often than he cared to admit. He was not an easy young man to read. She thought about confronting him but decided against it. It would be better to take her suspicions to the authorities.
Helen borrowed Patrick's flashlight and looked into the opening. It was cool and damp. The walls were flagstone, the landing a square wooden platform just large enough for two people to stand on. The mechanism beside the door was a modern-looking plate with a button, as you might find in an elevator. Certainly not from the early 1900s. "Looks like someone has updated the mechanism."
"Patrick and I thought the same thing." Ted leaned in to look at it.
"My grandfather might have done it when he renovated," Patrick suggested.
"I doubt that," Claire said. "He never said anything to me about secret passageways. Knowing Dad, he'd have opened it up for tours and told stories about smugglers. He never would have kept it a secret from his family"
"I'm sure you're right, Claire," Helen agreed. "But someone has been using these passageways. Perhaps Officer Powell wasn't that far off in his suspicions about smugglers."
"Are you certain Paddy didn't know?" Fabian asked. "He may have been bringing contraband in over the border himself. I've heard there's a lot of money to be made with the right contraband."
"No way." Patrick glared at Fabian. "Dad told me you wanted to buy the island. Maybe you're the one we should be looking at."
"Don't be ridiculous. I've only been out here a few times." He looked at Claire. "I didn't know about the underground until someone put me there. Your friend here makes a better suspect than I do. He seems to know an awful lot about that passageway."
"This is nuts," Ted shot back. "I used to own the place, remember? Of course I know some things about it." He glanced away.
Helen turned back to Ted. "Can you show me how it works?"
"Sure." Ted stepped into the passage and reached past her. "You push this lever to release it and it will automatically close." It did.
Helen sucked in her breath and felt a moment's panic at being confined in the dank, cave-like room with a man who could be a murderer. "I can understand why you were frightened of this place as a child." She shivered.
"I think I must have been in here before." Ted turned toward her, blocking the mechanism that would free her. "It gives me the creeps. I still can't remember any details, just little bits, like knowing how the doors work."
Helen escaped her fear long enough to pick up on what he'd just said. "It was like this when you were y
oung?"
He shrugged. "I guess it must have been. When Patrick and I finally got through the gate and started walking, especially when we got to the castle itself and began finding the access ways to each of the floors, I started to remember."
"Then Paddy couldn't have replaced the mechanism. This had to have been done before he bought the place."
"You're right. My grandfather made a few changes before he ran out of money. I suppose it's possible he knew about it. I don't know what to think" He turned around and pressed the button. "All I know is it gives me the creeps."
When the door slid open, they gratefully stepped back into Mary's sitting room, where Claire, Fabian, and Patrick were still waiting.
"I suggest we check on the others." Helen drew in a deep breath. "Get everyone together. We’ll meet in ten minutes in the drawing room. Patrick, you and Ted find Peter." She hesitated. "Do you know where he is?"
"Last I saw, Peter was with Megan," Patrick told them. "Hillary and the others went to bed about the same time you and Claire did. You don't think Peter killed him, do you?"
"Peter certainly is a strong candidate. Unless Hillary is in better shape than she claims to be, she couldn't have climbed all these stairs. Claire, could you get Megan and Hillary?"
"Why?" Claire asked. "I don't see any point in talking to them."
"Someone is playing the music and stealing my roses. That may be a prank to keep the ghost stories alive. Or it may be a way to throw us off the track," Helen said. "The rose business may not be connected with the murders. It may be the same person, but I have my doubts. And unless someone else has come onto the island in the last few hours, we have to consider the fact that those of us still here are suspects. Hillary wouldn't have the strength to move Fabian from the spa area to the underground tunnel, but that doesn't mean she isn't involved."
Claire ran a hand through her already disheveled red curls. "You're scaring me. I can't bear to think Hillary or Peter would kill anyone." She cast them a fearful look. "Still, if Peter is in on this, Megan could be in danger as well."
"Humph," Patrick said. "She's his meal ticket. He's not going to hurt her."
A Haunting Refrain: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 4) Page 21
