“Can we go to the root cellar now?” Maddie asked. “I can’t wait to see what’s behind that door Lucas found. If there’s any place left unexplored in the mansion, it would be the root cellar.”
“Just a sec.” To be thorough, Olivia looked through the remaining items in Hermione’s closet. When she came across a second coat, made of fine wool, she removed it from its hanger. “Might as well check out this one, too.” Olivia felt inside the pockets. “Aha. This is my lucky night.” She extracted a battered envelope, taped shut. Inside she found a collection of photographs in various shapes and sizes. Pausing at a small, square, black-and-white photo of an infant, Olivia said, “Hey, Maddie, take a look at this. Does that look like a newborn to you?”
Maddie settled cross-legged on the floor and shone her flashlight over the photo. “It reminds me of those photos some hospitals take right after a newborn baby is cleaned up. Several of my cousins have sent me pictures like this one. Personally, I wouldn’t want one in my portfolio.” She turned the print over. “No identification, not even a date. That’s weird. My cousins always list names, dates, weight, length, actual minute of birth, duration of labor.…”
Olivia joined Maddie on the floor. “When the Chatterleys first showed up at our store on Tuesday evening, I remember Paine saying he and Hermione had never been blessed with children. I wonder if they lost a child. This baby’s eyes are closed. That might not mean anything, of course; he or she might have been asleep. I imagine being born is exhausting.”
Handing back the snapshot, Maddie said, “It’s sort of creepy to think someone would clean up a dead infant to take its picture.”
“I can understand it,” Olivia said. “People grieve in different ways.” She flipped through the remaining photos. “A few of these might be older relatives, probably Hermione’s, since Paine apparently cut off contact with his own parents. The rest are pictures of Hermione and Paine in what I suspect were happier days. Look at this one.” The dog-eared, faded photo she handed to Maddie showed the Chatterley couple dressed for a special occasion.
“Wow,” Maddie said. “I bet they were going to a Euro disco party. Or maybe a costume party; the look is a bit seventies, and Paine wouldn’t have arrived in Europe until the early eighties, right? Look at Hermione’s dress—the empire waist, filmy fabric, short.… She had good legs, too. And her hair! It was a lot like mine only honey blond and better behaved.”
“I barely recognize Paine with his hair hanging over his ears instead of brushed back,” Olivia said. “They look happy. They’re holding hands and grinning at the camera. I’d love to know who took the photo.” She turned it over and found nothing. “It’s odd that Hermione didn’t write anything on any of these pictures. My mom always records as much detail as she can fit in the space available. She says memories fade over a lifetime, so if you want to remember, write it down.”
“I suppose we can’t keep these photos, can we?” Maddie asked.
“Not a chance. Too risky.”
Maddie reached in her jeans pocket for her cell phone. “I’ll send them to my computer. They might turn out crappy, but you never know.”
While Maddie clicked each photo with her cell phone camera, Olivia finished searching the closet and every drawer in the bedroom. Hermione had brought very little with her. On the top shelf of the closet, Olivia found several items that had come from Chatterley Heights businesses, confirming their accusations that Hermione had stolen from them. Olivia left them untouched.
Checking her watch, Olivia said, “We need to get a move on. It’s going on four o’clock.”
“I’m good,” Maddie said. “Let us adjourn to the root cellar, shall we?”
“If we must.” Olivia replaced Hermione’s photos in their envelope, which she slid back into the coat pocket. “I hope those pictures weren’t in some special order that only Hermione would know.”
“I doubt she will dust them for fingerprints,” Maddie said. “Come on. The creepy crawlies await.”
“This is why I’ve never ventured down to the root cellar underneath The Gingerbread House,” Olivia said as she tried to extricate her hair from a clinging cobweb.
“I didn’t know there was one,” Maddie said. “Watch it. I believe I hear the scuffling of tiny rodent feet.”
“They better not be rats.”
“I had a pet rat when I was a kid. I named him Sir Reginald the Rat. He was sweet.”
“Your aunt Sadie was always a patient woman.” Olivia swept her flashlight across the dirt floor in front of her. So far, she hadn’t encountered much insect and animal life, but she suspected that armies of mice, rats, and spiders were gathering in the shadows, waiting for her to let down her guard.
“Here’s where Lucas found a door. He wanted to make sure no one got hurt trying to open it.” Maddie aimed her flashlight at five rectangular cuts of unfinished wood, each about three by six feet in size and one-half inch thick. They leaned lengthwise in a thick stack against the wall. Olivia ran her finger lightly along the edge of one piece and noticed the edge was smooth, as if it had been intended for use.
“Now I’m really curious,” Olivia said. “Let’s move this wood aside. I want to see that door.”
Olivia positioned her flashlight on a nearby shelf so it illuminated the boards. Maddie did the same. They tackled the first length of wood and found it difficult to slide along the uneven floor. Their combined strength wasn’t enough to lift it slightly off the floor, either.
“I keep forgetting how strong Lucas is,” Olivia said. “This has got to be solid oak. It’s much larger and heavier than a modern door, and there are four more of them.” She retrieved her flashlight and swept it around the area. “I think we have enough room to swing them sideways and ‘walk’ them out of the way.”
“Livie, I have known you all these years, and I had no idea you possessed such an impressive spatial imagination.”
“Chalk it up to self-preservation,” Olivia said. “I’m hoping to avoid wrenching my back moving those suckers.”
Maddie gripped one side of the wood with one hand and the top corner with the other. “Ready? Come on, Livie, I can’t stand the suspense much longer.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Olivia said as she grasped the other edge. “Let’s walk it out from the stack a bit.” She managed to slide her edge away from the wall. “Now you slide your side forward. Good. Now you stay where you are, and I’ll walk my end around in front of you in a semicircle. See how it works?”
“Cool. I’m sure I could have thought of that,” Maddie said. “In about a million years.”
“You are the adventurer; I am the planner,” Olivia said. “It works for us. Now we walk the board backward and lean it against the wall.”
“Why can’t we just let it fall against the wall?” Maddie asked as she let go of her grip on the wood.
“Because it’ll make too much—” Olivia didn’t let go in time, and the wood slammed into her finger, pinning it against the wall. “Ouch!” She flinched as she extracted her finger.
“Oh no! I’m sorry,” Maddie said. “Did you break anything?”
Olivia flexed her fingers. “No broken bones or skin. Just a nasty pinch.”
“Should we stop?”
“No way. Neither bugs, nor blood, nor broken bones…” The maneuver went more quickly and smoothly the second time through, except they both let go a moment too soon, and the wood landed against the wall with a thud.
“We should probably try to be quieter,” Olivia said. “Just in case.”
The last two boards landed more smoothly. Olivia took stock of the result and determined that they could open the door, if it opened at all, at least halfway. “A job well done,” she said. “Are you sure Lucas didn’t at least try to peek inside before he covered the door?”
“Sweet Lucas,” Maddie said, shaking her head. “He is totally adorable and, of course, manly, but avid curiosity isn’t his strongest characteristic. He figured he’d do a more thor
ough plan of the mansion once the celebration was over, when he’d have more time to work on his video of the restoration work. So yeah, if Lucas said he didn’t look behind the door, he didn’t look behind the door.”
“Well then, let’s see if it even opens after all this time and dampness.” The door in the wall came up to Olivia’s chest. She clutched the small, rusty knob and yanked. It came off in her hand.
“Crap,” Maddie said.
Olivia unzipped her jacket pocket and drew out her screwdriver.
“There’s that planning gene again,” Maddie said.
“Can’t help myself.”
“Hey, it’s a quality I count on.” Maddie retrieved her flashlight and aimed it at the edge of the door.
“I’ll try not to damage anything,” Olivia said, “though we already moved the boards and yanked the knob off, so it will be obvious to Lucas that someone tried to open this door. If he ever gets to finish the restoration, that is.” Olivia kept her hurt finger out of harm’s way.
“Have I mentioned Lucas’s lack of curiosity? He’ll assume another worker moved the boards and the knob fell off on its own. I doubt Lucas would notice screwdriver marks, either. If he ever mentions them, I’ll distract him. I have my ways.”
Olivia chuckled, then swore under her breath as the screwdriver took out a chunk of wall. “I thought this wall would be harder; it’s solid wood. I forgot about dampness and dry rot.”
While Olivia worked on the door, Maddie said, “We’re right under the kitchen, but maybe this wall isn’t flush with the wall upstairs. That would allow space for a storage area. Maybe it’s a secret hiding place for valuables. I’m thinking cookie cutters here, of course.”
Another chunk of wall fell out, and Olivia said, “We might as well go for it.” She wedged the end of her screwdriver as far as she could into the crevice between the door and the wall. As she hit the screwdriver handle with her fist, she felt it sink deeper. “Here goes,” she said as she pushed the screwdriver handle toward the wall. The door groaned, then cracked open a fraction of an inch.
Maddie’s flashlight bobbed as she gasped with excitement. “Can you open it?”
“Almost.” Olivia reinserted her screwdriver and pushed hard on the handle. She felt the door shift an inch or so, scraping the floor. Handing her screwdriver to Maddie, Olivia slid her fingers through the opening, grabbed the edge of the door, and pulled with all her strength. She grimaced at the pressure on her finger.
Maddie squealed with excitement. “It worked!”
Olivia put her fingers to her lips. “You can scream later.”
“Yes, ma’am. Can I go in first?”
“With my gratitude,” Olivia said. Unlike Lucas, she had plenty of imagination, and she didn’t like what she was picturing beyond the door.
Apparently, Maddie had rosier expectations because she eagerly slid through the opening, disappearing behind the door. After several moments, Maddie said, “Crap.”
“What? Are you okay?” Olivia envisioned everything from a swarm of rats to a pile of bones.
“I’m fine, but…well, take a look for yourself.”
Olivia peeked through the opening and saw Maddie’s back. “Could you move aside? You’re blocking the view.”
“I’m coming out. There’s not much room to maneuver in here,” Maddie said.
As Olivia edged through the narrow opening, her heart climbed up her throat. Maddie had not looked thrilled. As Olivia swirled her flashlight around, she understood why. It was impossible tell what had once been behind the door, even whether it had been a tunnel or a room. There was barely enough space for one person, and she had to crouch to avoid bumping her head against a rotting beam. Inches beyond her toes, dirt piled higher than her head, making further movement impossible. The dirt might have fallen through the disintegrating ceiling, or perhaps the construction had never been completed. Olivia was surprised by the depth of her disappointment.
“What a letdown,” Olivia said as she reentered the root cellar.
“Shh,” Maddie whispered, her hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “I think I hear something.” Maddie pointed upward.
Olivia switched off her flashlight. At first she heard nothing but the random creaks that old houses always make. She whispered, “I don’t—” But then she heard the distinct tinkle of a glass or plate smashing. Someone was in the house. It was Olivia’s turn to say, “Crap.”
Maddie leaned toward Olivia and whispered, “What should we do?”
Olivia could barely see the boards against the wall, but she knew they would be a red flag to someone who knew the mansion well. Besides, the hidden door was open. With the lights out, she couldn’t bring to mind anyplace in the root cellar that might provide cover. If whoever was upstairs came downstairs…Olivia put her lips close to Maddie’s ear. “We’re probably goners,” she said, “but all we can do is be quiet and wait. Maybe whoever is up there doesn’t know about the root cellar.”
“What are the odds of that?” Maddie whispered.
“Slim to none. But we have no choice.” Olivia clutched Maddie above the elbow and edged them away from the open door. The sounds upstairs grew more distant, as if the intruder had left the kitchen and dining room and moved to another area of the mansion. This might be the person who’d been searching the mansion at night. It couldn’t be Hermione Chatterley unless she had miraculously recovered from her heart attack and was determined to bring on a second one. A chill quivered through Olivia’s body, and it had nothing to do with the clammy air in the root cellar. It was a good bet that whoever seemed to be ransacking the mansion at that moment was also involved in Paine Chatterley’s murder.
Olivia risked switching on her flashlight to illuminate their way to a less obvious area of the root cellar. There wasn’t much to choose from, but in one corner she saw a chipped ceramic gas stove, a 1950s model. She and Maddie might be able to squeeze behind it without too many limbs sticking out. She guided Maddie’s elbow toward the dubious shelter.
There was enough room behind the stove to hide both women if they turned sideways and squatted, which meant being up close and personal with the floor. Maddie used her flashlight to take a quick look and said, “Ick. I propose we stand up unless the danger becomes imminent.”
“I second.” Olivia slid behind the stove and thought about brightly colored sugar cookies, lots of them, in comforting shapes, like bunnies and puppies.
“Who do you think is up there?” Maddie asked in a low voice.
Olivia hesitated, puzzled by the level of destruction that seemed to be going on upstairs. “I think this is about more than cookie cutters. That’s a very angry person, or I’m not the second best baker in town.”
“You’re tied with Aunt Sadie for second, but I get your point. Matthew Fabrizio is the most obvious candidate, but he’s in jail. Again.”
“We’re assuming he is,” Olivia said. “Del didn’t say he’d actually found a gun, so he might have released Matthew by now. I wonder how angry Quill Latimer is after all these years. He didn’t seem too bothered when Paine Chatterley showed up at the store Tuesday evening, but he controls his feelings well. On the surface, anyway. Karen has been pretty upset with both Chatterleys ever since they arrived, and Rosemarie was beside herself about Matthew.”
“I can’t blame her,” Maddie said. “Paine played a nasty trick on Matthew, letting him think he’d be rewarded for finishing the gingerbread trim.”
A scraping sound, like heavy furniture being shoved across a wood floor, startled them into ducking down. “That sounded close,” Olivia whispered. “The dining room, maybe.”
“Do you really think a woman would be knocking furniture around like that?”
“Sexist,” Olivia said. “I’m not sure how strong Rosemarie is. Karen, on the other hand…Mom told me Karen can run circles around her—which is not easy, I can tell you. I know Karen works out, too.” Olivia shot up and shook her leg. “Ugh, I think something is crawling on my ankle. There,
it’s gone.”
“Shh, listen,” Maddie said.
After several moments, Olivia said, “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly. While you were distracted, I heard footsteps overhead, in the kitchen. Then a door opened and closed. I’m thinking our short-tempered visitor has left.”
“That seems abrupt,” Olivia said.
“Let’s get out of here.” Maddie headed for the stairs. “I’m totally cured of my longing for adventure.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my friend? Okay, let’s make sure it’s safe up there, and then you go on home,” Olivia said. “I want to take another look around the mansion.”
“The mansion is probably wrecked even worse than it was before. What more do you need to know?”
“I’m just wondering.…” Olivia reached the top of the stairs and peered through the door. “All clear.” She listened for several moments before whispering, “I think we’re okay.”
Maddie followed her into the kitchen. “What were you wondering?”
Olivia led the way through the dining room, using her flashlight to help them avoid obstacles. As they entered the hallway, Olivia said, “I’m wondering if perhaps the intruder found what he or she was looking for.” She ran her beam along the wall, where framed paintings of nineteenth-century Chatterleys hung askew.
“Aha,” Maddie said. “You’re thinking the intruder has been searching for the Chatterley cookie-cutter collection and finally found it?”
“The Chatterley collection…maybe.”
“What else is there to look for?” Maddie sounded frustrated.
“Let’s check the front parlor,” Olivia said, “and then call it a night. We can still grab a few hours of sleep before we have to start setting up our booth for the fete.”
“Why the front parlor?”
“Because before we examined the contents of the hidden storage area under the staircase, I peeked into the front parlor with my flashlight. I figured those velvet curtains were heavy enough to hide the light from anyone outside. The parlor looked the way it did when we visited Hermione—neat and orderly.”
When the Cookie Crumbles Page 18
