“Are you saying the people who have lived there have gone crazy and killed?”
Mrs. Hyatt didn’t so much respond as lock eyes with Kate in a way that chilled her bones. “You shouldn’t renovate it, my dear. You should burn it to the ground.”
“What makes you say that?”
Strangely, Mrs. Hyatt shot her a smile that didn’t at all capture her dark mood. “I’m just an old woman. What do I know?”
“Something tells me you know a lot,” she countered, as though unwilling to let the woman off the hook.
“Just consider yourself lucky. At least you won’t have to spend time in that hellhole while the police do their job. And I’m telling you, you should suggest to those Roberts people that they ought to burn that damned house to the ground.”
Before Kate could ask her more, Mrs. Hyatt began shuffling off, thrusting and planting her walker in the ground as she inched toward her house.
Unnerved, Kate watched the elderly woman disappear into her house. When she turned for her truck, Detective Kilroy was jogging toward her so she offered him a weary smile, hoping that he wouldn’t keep her long.
“Mrs. York,” he said, as he slowed his step. He was one of the few people in Rock Ridge who called her by her married name. Kate had scowled time and again over the years at being referred to as Scott’s wife constantly, and the residents finally caught on. Nowadays most everyone called her Mrs. Fix It, and to Kate it seemed the perfect compromise between ‘Mrs. Flaherty’ and ‘the Police Chief’s wife.’
“Yes, Detective?”
Kilroy was a handsome man in his mid-thirties whose messy brown hair and loosened tie had always given her the impression that he knew he looked best slightly bedraggled with a beat-cop’s attitude. She didn’t necessarily agree, but the single ladies of Rock Ridge certainly did. Many were vying for his attention, and Kate was fairly certain the man hadn’t needed to cook himself a meal since he’d arrived in town. The eligible bachelorettes had him covered in that department.
“I thought I’d get your opinion on something,” he went on, shooting her a smile that landed like a bribe.
He knew he was good-looking, but he didn’t need to butter her up to get her opinion.
“About what?” she asked.
He prefaced his question by stating, “I’m not sure our forensic guys will be expert enough.”
“No need to qualify your question, Kilroy, what would you like to know?”
“Do you have any way of knowing how old that asphalt is? Can you tell by looking at it? I’d like an expert opinion on when the asphalt was poured in that basement.”
“Theoretically, you can tell how old asphalt is by how it ages,” she began, sinking into her hip and holding the door to the truck. She needed to sit down. “The older the asphalt, the more brittle it becomes. I didn’t exactly have to put too much muscle into jackhammering it into cracking, but at the same time, the asphalt hadn’t been exposed to the elements like a common road.”
“So...?”
“So, you’d have to test the oxidation, the volatilization, the polymerization, thixotrophy…” she was still listing the testable agents, but Kilroy’s eyes had already glazed over with confusion. “Tell you what, I can take a closer look at it, but my hard and fast guess...” she gave it a moment’s thought, mumbling to herself, “given that it was in the dank basement, fairly brittle...” She perked up and addressed him clearly. “I’d say the asphalt was poured between twelve and fifteen years ago.”
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline and the smirk that was forming in the corner of his mouth told her that he was impressed. “That’s better than we had before. Thanks a lot.”
“So, do you want me to come back and run a test or two?”
“I’ll have to check in with Scott—”
“Oh, shoot, maybe I shouldn’t then,” she said quickly and when he cocked his brow, she clarified. “The more you get to know Scott, the clearer it will be to you that he doesn’t necessarily appreciate when I work closely with the police.”
“Ah,” he said, knowingly. Kilroy had only been on the job a few months, but had heard the rumors: Kate’s long-standing history of solving murders as a sleuth and Scott’s long-standing irritability because of it. “Say no more. I won’t mention it to him. But maybe you could swing by and home in on a more precise age?”
“As soon as the crime scene tape is down,” she said, climbing into her truck.
Turning the key in the ignition, she watched Kilroy stalk up the walkway and into the house. She took a deep breath and adjusted the vents so that each one sent a cold stream of air to her face. The clock on the dashboard read a quarter to four. She could go home and take a nap, but part of her felt as if doing so would admit defeat. She wasn’t ready to believe she was turning into an old woman, so she scooped her cell phone out of the front pocket of her overalls.
She found the number of her best friend, Carly, in her contacts and sent the call through, figuring that spending a little time at Sunshine Florist wouldn’t tire her out, and she could easily meet Scott for dinner after.
“Hey, you busy?” she asked as soon as Carly picked up the phone.
“Not more than usual,” Carly said. “Why?”
“I’m thinking about stopping by. My day got cut short.”
“Well, if you don’t mind that I’ll be arranging Fourth of July bouquets, then you’re more than welcome.”
“In that case, I’ll see you soon.”
Carly laughed, “In that case I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”
It didn’t take long to drive to Sunshine Florist, though it felt like it. Kate’s arms felt like sandbags and her head felt twice as heavy. Several times she had to pop her eyes open, having realized after the fact that they had drifted shut.
A wave of anger rolled through her as she pulled up along the curb outside of the florist’s. She was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. And she couldn’t spend another second scouring the internet for answers. The last five nights she had stayed up late, hunting through various webpages after plugging in her symptoms. She kept telling herself it was only menopause, but part of her wondered if it was something more serious. According to her research, she should be having more hot flashes and temper flares, but she hadn’t felt moody and when she got overheated it didn’t strike her as the typical hot flash, rather as though something inside her was heating her up.
She wouldn’t even care about feeling warm from time to time if she wasn’t so tired all the time. As she climbed out of her truck, she decided to make an appointment with the doctor if this kept up. And walking toward the entrance door, she pushed all further doubt from her mind and beamed a bright smile at Carly the second she stepped into the delightfully cool flower shop.
“So, your day got cut short?” Carly asked, as she rounded through to the back of the shop where Carly was clipping the thorns off a bushel of roses. “Good news or bad?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s good news,” she said, grunting her way onto a stool in front of the counter.
Carly was ready on the quick with a mug of dark roast that she set on the counter. Though the fresh coffee smelled aromatic, it didn’t liven her senses like it ought to, but she drank a few sips anyway.
“You look tired,” said her friend, and Kate frowned. “Sorry, I know no woman wants to hear that, but you do seem drained. Those bags under your eyes concern me. Did you sleep badly?”
She wished she could say that she had. “No, I’m not sure what’s going on but I definitely feel drained. Maybe it’s the news I just got.”
“News?”
“Oh, not news. But I’ve been working on that old Victorian house—”
“The one those out-of-towners bought,” she quickly supplied.
“You know about it?”
“Only rumors,” she said, and then her mouth quirked into a knowing grin. “And the fact that the cops are excavating a body as we speak.”
“You did not hear th
at!” she exclaimed. It never ceased to amaze her how fast word traveled in Rock Ridge. It was spooky. “Who told you about the body?”
“Larry did,” she said easily before bringing her own mug of coffee to her mouth. She drank down a long sip, and then explained, “He was driving by and saw the police cruisers. That new detective, Kilroy, gave him the scoop. Scary stuff.”
“Can you imagine?” She pondered. “While the rest of us were raising kids and living happily, some poor woman was being murdered and buried in the foundation of that house.”
“And not just any house,” said Carly, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning forward. “There's some dark history to that old Victorian.”
“Mrs. Hyatt alluded to as much, but she didn’t elaborate.”
“Well,” said Carly, easing into the tale. “They used to call it the House of Slaughter.”
“Oh, get out of town, that’s ridiculous.”
“You didn’t hear that? I remember when the rumors started circulating.”
Kate didn’t. But then again, she’d never been one to get sucked into gossip.
“People used to think the house was haunted and that the ghosts had the power to compel those who lived there to kill. You don’t remember this?”
Kate shot her a skeptical look, which was enough of an answer.
“Goodness, Kate, when we were in grade school people were talking about it. What was the name of that couple?” she asked herself, thinking out loud. “The Davenports. Yes, that’s it, the Davenports moved in when we were in sixth grade. I don’t remember where they moved from but they had a toddler, and after eight months in the House of Slaughter the husband drowned the baby in the bathtub.”
“Oh God,” said Kate. “Clearly he was mentally ill.”
“At that point sure, but he had been an upstanding citizen and husband until moving into that house. And before the Davenports, it was the Sanders back before we were born. Mrs. Sanders killed her husband.”
“Do you remember who was living there around thirty years ago?” Kate asked, curious but also dreading that Carly would say House of Slaughter again. The moniker have her the heebie-jeebies.
Carly seemed to wrack her brain for a long moment. “Oh!” she blurted out. “Yes, I do. It was the Hyatt’s.”
“The Hyatt’s? Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Mrs. Hyatt was living there with her adult son. Her husband had passed away years before from some type of cancer. Well, Mrs. Hyatt was never arrested, but that didn’t stop the residents from believing she had killed her own son.”
“Why did they think that?” Kate was stunned that Mrs. Hyatt hadn’t breathed a word to her, but then again why would the woman dredge up a dark memory?
“Her son disappeared,” she went on explaining. “No one saw him around town anymore, and one night the house caught fire. Of course everyone thought Mrs. Hyatt had started the fire since the house had turned her mad. Anyway, when firefighters rushed in to save the house, they found her son dead in the living room.”
“That doesn’t mean she killed him.”
“It doesn’t mean she didn’t,” Carly pointed out.
Kate wondered if she might be able to talk with Mrs. Hyatt about all this, but quickly pushed the thought from her mind. Even if the elderly woman were willing to open up about damning rumors from long ago, it wouldn’t shed light on the woman in the basement. There was no sense digging up a painful past.
Carly changed the subject, saying, “You’re going to the fireworks at the amusement park for the Fourth, right?”
“That’s the plan,” said Kate, as she rose to her feet in need of the bathroom.
But she must have stood up too fast. She felt suddenly light-headed, and before she knew it, Carly was shrieking and Kate felt her head slam against something.
Her vision had gone black.
She must have fainted.
“Kate! Kate!” yelled Carly, slapping her face. “Kate, are you okay?”
Gradually, Kate opened her eyes and found her best friend standing over her. It took a moment to get her bearings. She was on her back, on the floor. Embarrassed, she sat up, but her head was swimming.
“You fainted! I’m calling an ambulance!”
“No, please,” said Kate, trying to shake the cotton out of her head. “I’m fine.”
“You most certainly are not fine,” she objected. “And if you won’t take an ambulance then I’ll drive you myself.”
Kate was about to refuse, but doing so would’ve been ridiculous. Clearly she should see a doctor, though it pained her to admit as much. Grumbling, she accepted Carly’s help getting off the floor. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t tell Scott. I don’t want him worrying about me.”
Carly pressed her mouth into a hard line in response to Kate’s stubbornness, as she helped her through the flower shop.
Outside, Kate braced the back of a bench as Carly locked up, and before she knew it, her friend had taken her by the arm again.
After helping Kate into the passenger’s seat of her Saab, Carly rounded the hood and hopped in behind the wheel.
“Tell me you haven’t fainted before,” she demanded, angling the vehicle away from the curb and merging into steady flowing traffic.
“I’ve been a little tired, but nothing else,” she said, cringing to tell a lie of omission. She reasoned, however, that food tasting bland wasn’t a detrimental symptom.
“A little tired?” she questioned. “Have you eaten today?”
She had, but jumped on the opportunity to supply her friend with a reason for having fainted. “You know, I forgot to eat. I’m sure my blood sugar is low. Plus, I think I’ve lost a little weight.”
“Which you can’t afford,” Carly quickly pointed out, but then looked Kate up and down before returning her eyes to the road. “Are you sure you’ve lost weight?”
“Gee, Carly, thanks a lot!”
“I’m not criticizing you! I just don’t think you’ve lost so much weight that you’d faint.”
They pulled into the hospital and Carly drove right up to the entrance so Kate wouldn’t have to exert herself walking through the parking lot.
As Kate popped the door open, she said, “Thanks for driving me.”
“You’re not getting rid of me so easily. Wait on that bench and I’ll take you in.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said impatiently.
But Carly only gaped at her.
“Fine,” she grumbled, stepping out of the Saab.
She waited near the bench, but refused to sit, as Carly made fast work of parking in the nearest spot, after which she quickly crossed through the lot and took Kate’s arm again as though her friend were some kind of invalid.
Kate didn’t fight her, however, as they made their way into the hospital. At the front desk, Kate produced her insurance card, stated her name, and took a clipboard that had the standard five-hundred-question forms.
“Really?” she asked the nurse behind the desk. “You don’t have my medical history?”
“This is standard procedure,” the nurse said dryly.
But Carly was quick with, “She fainted. She needs to see a doctor ASAP, and quite frankly, she would if she’d let me call an ambulance.”
The nurse rose to her feet, taking the information seriously. “Right this way.”
As Kate followed after the nurse, she told Carly over her shoulder, “I’ll be fine now. Really, I can go it alone from here.”
Her friend looked pained, but hung back, nodding and folding her arms.
The nurse opened an exam room door for Kate and asked her to have a seat on the exam table. Apprehensively, Kate sat, watching the nurse settle into a rolling chair in front of a computer monitor.
The nurse took a brief history from Kate then asked, “You fainted?”
“I was sitting and probably got up too fast.” When the nurse eyed her skeptically, Kate knew she ought to come out with the truth. “I’ve been very tired
in the past few months.”
Nodding, the nurse typed the symptom into the computer, mentioning, “We’ll do a full work up, blood work and a CT scan, get you fully checked out.”
“Do you think it’s serious?”
The nurse twisted in her chair, facing Kate. “Until we run your blood work and review the scans I can’t speculate.” After rising to her feet, she told Kate that the doctor would be in shortly and then left her, closing the door.
One hour, three CT scans, and five blood-vials later, Kate was rolling down her sleeve and thanking the doctor, who explained, “It’ll take a solid four days to get the results of the blood work. I suggest you take it very easy in the meantime. Stay indoors where it’s cool. Don’t exert yourself. Keep drinking fluids and eat healthy. It’s best to eat every hour or so to keep your blood sugar up.”
She agreed, thanked him again, and started for the lobby, all the while wondering how she might get away with arriving home in a taxi.
But she didn’t have to call a taxi.
Scott was pacing worrisomely in the lobby and when he met her gaze, he looked both relieved and terrified. He rushed to her and took hold of her shoulders, and though she protested that she felt fine, he simply wasn’t having it. “What did the doctor say? What was the diagnosis?”
“He won’t know for a few days,” she explained.
“Then you’ll spend those days at home in bed, resting,” he concluded.
There’s no way, thought Kate, no way in hell.
Chapter Three
Kate felt like a virtual prisoner in her own home and it had only been one night. Scott had driven her home, tucked her into bed even though the sun hadn’t even set, and then driven off to Sunshine Florist to tow her truck back to the house. When he had returned, they enjoyed a pleasant enough dinner, though she ate hers in bed and he didn’t allow her a glass of wine.
She had slept well and woke with the sun just as Scott was climbing out of bed and walking half asleep toward the bathroom.
Bed rest, she complained to herself. Ridiculous. How could Scott expect her to lie around in bed all day? For days, she realized, remembering the doctor’s timeline concerning her blood work. There was no way she could lounge around for several days. It would kill her.
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series Page 96
