“You’re right.” She fished around in her pocket and retrieved the glove Jerry had given her earlier. “Ready?” She snatched up the pen.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that these little decorative notches, which I assumed were only part of the pattern, are more than that.” She waved him closer. “See how this one in the center of the design has a very slight scratch mark here?” She stabbed the tip of the ink pen into it. The mantelpiece shuddered, and the back of the fireplace slid to their left, wrought-iron log holder and all.
Simon’s eyes widened as they stared into a hidden room behind the fireplace.
Addie shot Simon a side glance as she bent down and scrambled into a small brick room. Simon, close behind her, whistled when he stood upright. “I can’t believe this. Do you think it was built as a panic room?”
“I don’t know. The brick looks old. I’m not sure they had panic rooms when the house was built.”
“What year do you think that was?”
“About the same time as mine, I think, so about the mid-eighteen-hundreds.”
“But why build a room that doesn’t lead anywhere?”
“Who knows? Maybe the original owner had some deep, dark secrets he wanted to keep hidden.”
“Do you know who owned it originally?”
“I only know that it’s been in the Gallagher family for years. At least that’s what the ghost story suggests, so I’m assuming that it was built by the family.”
“I can certainly see why a room like this would give credence to ghost legends. But I think we need to do more digging into the family background if we want any idea why this would have been built. It might answer a few questions.”
“This could be how the person who stole the books got in and out of the library when the door was bolted from the inside.”
“Exactly. I’m guessing that they stayed hidden in here until the police left and the coast was clear for them to make a run for it.”
There were no markings on the brick from what she could see, and the room was empty except for something white in the corner just over her shoulder. “Look.”
“It’s a folding stepladder.”
“It’s one of those plastic three-step ones. It’s not wooden like one you’d expect to find in a seventy-plus-year-old house.”
“Which means it’s newer.”
“Very new,” Addie said, opening the stool with her gloved hand. “It’s hardly got any dust or grime on it.” She took a closer look at the walls. “See that?” She placed the stool at the opening to the hidden room and climbed onto the top step, slid a disk aside, and peered out. “This explains why I always felt like someone was watching me in the room.”
“What do you see?”
“Take a look for yourself.” She clambered down.
Simon climbed up on the stool. “Wow, that’s a pretty good view of the entire room.”
“Yes,” Addie said from the library side of the hearth, and ducked back into the brick enclosure. “And it’s camouflaged by the left eye of the man in the painting over the mantel.”
Simon climbed down. “That means while the thief waited for everyone to leave, he could also hear what was going on in the library. That’s why he was always one step ahead of everyone else.”
“This is probably where he stashed the other things he stole, waited in here until everyone left for the day, and then had no problem slipping them out at night.”
“It’s also how he learned that you had broken your nail and the value of the books you found.”
“Not to mention the existence of the Beeton’s first proof of A Study in Scarlet, which alone is worth over a hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars.”
Philip Atkinson flashed in her mind. Despite the fact that she had only discovered the books on Wednesday, and they hadn’t been advertised in the auction catalogue, she knew by his comments in her store that he was aware of their existence. He did have a reputation as a ruthless broker who would stop at nothing to get what his client wanted. The only reason he would be here in the first place was because one of his clients wanted something in particular from this estate sale. It stood to reason, given that the Holmes collection reproductions would have taken a day or two to locate, someone had to have known about the books’ existence before Wednesday. That someone was either Philip himself or someone he was working with on the inside.
“I have to call Marc.”
Simon placed his hand over hers. “I will. There’s less likely to be as much drama since you’re still a suspect, and we haven’t heard that the DA has dropped charges.”
“You’re right. But this can prove that there was another way the books could be stolen. It answers so many questions. I’m just afraid that Ryley will try and make it sound like I knew about this room, and it was me using it.”
“I think that one’s even a reach for her to prove.”
“I hope so.”
When Simon stepped out to talk to Marc, Addie paced the small room, studying the shades of caulking between the bricks. It didn’t make sense that this space had been so well constructed and great pains had been taken to conceal its existence to have it just end in a dead end. There must be something they were missing. Her toe caught on a board edge.
“Simon, look at this.” Crouching, she ran her fingers over an area of the uneven, aging oak plank floorboards. She felt a slight indentation between two planks and pulled. With a groan the board edge pulled upward, revealing a three-by-three-foot trapdoor. As she lifted the door, musty air and decay leeched into the small space. She gagged on the nasty dust motes.
“I’ll be darned.” Simon peered down the black cavernous hole.
Pinching her nose closed with one hand, she tugged her phone out of her jeans pocket and shined the light over the edge of the opening. “It’s a stone staircase.” Her nasal tone echoed down into the subterranean chamber.
Simon grinned and gave her a sidelong glance. “Yeah, but judging by the green algae on those stairs, I’d say it hasn’t been used for years.”
“You’re right.” She leaned farther over the edge, having to release the hold on her nose to keep her balance, and shone the light deeper. “Yuck, it reeks down there.” She pulled back, covering her nose and mouth with her hand.
“It does explain this room in some ways, though.”
“I wondered if the original owner was a smuggler, but by the putrid smell coming up the stairs, he could have also been a mass murderer and stashed his victims down there.” Bile erupted into the back of her throat.
“I guess that’s the stuff of ghost legends.” Simon closed the lid. “I think we’ll leave the inspection of this area to the police. They have hazmat suits, and we don’t.”
“I’m not going to argue with you.” Addie stood up and wiped her hands on her cropped jeans. “How long did Marc say it would be until they got here?”
“He only said as soon as they could. There’s an incident in the town center.”
“What kind of incident?” A cold tickle of unease rippled across Addie’s shoulders as Paige’s colorless face surrounded by toppled books flashed behind her eyes.
Chapter 23
Addie crept back through the fireplace opening into the library and studied the portrait of the aging gentleman. His mutton chops and neatly clipped beard gave him an aristocratic appearance. However, the hollowness of his eyes made her shiver. She couldn’t decide if the painting depicted an accurate window into this man’s soul, or if the emptiness in his eyes was a result of the sliding peephole behind the wall.
Either way, her curiosity was piqued. Monday morning she’d go to the town clerk’s office and see what information they had about him and if there were any original copies of the architectural plans of the house on record. If the fireplace hideaway and the tunnel entrance were any indication of what was built into these walls, somewhere buried in the town archives there might be a clue to other secrets the house held.
&n
bsp; “We might be in for a long wait.” Simon made himself comfortable in one of the reading chairs by the window and patted the one beside him. “It’s a good time to tell me all the details of this ghost story everyone is mumbling about.”
Overcome by the haunting expression in the eyes of the man in the portrait, Addie took one last look at the painting and settled into the deep leather chair. “There’s not much I can tell you. I never paid much attention to the grumblings I heard about the house.”
“Really?” His eyes glistened with amusement. “Addie, the lover of all things pirates and historical, dissed rumors of a real-life haunted mansion?”
“Not entirely. I know the history of the old town haunted buildings that are part of the annual ghost walk. But I never paid much attention to this house until Serena told me what she’d heard, and then Paige verified it, and most everyone in town echoed the same tale.”
“I can tell you that after I read the statement Blake gave the police, I can see why the tales did develop over the years.”
“What did he say to Marc?”
“He said in his report to the police that when the court order came down to sell the entire estate for back taxes, the court-appointed attorney noted in his report that there was evidence of vagrants having lived in the house, which most likely gave rise to the stories of the house being haunted.”
“I guess that would explain the reports of locals seeing glowing lights at night and shadows in the windows.”
“Not exactly, because when I asked Marc about it, he denied it. He said the house was locked up pretty tight. Apparently, it was an unwritten rule by every police chief over the years to keep a close eye on the house because of the circumstances surrounding the owners’ death and the disappearance of their son. The police knew the house hadn’t been vacated, only left unattended and was still full of all the furnishings and whatnot.”
“So much for the vagrant theory.” Addie’s gaze darted around the room, and she rubbed her hands over her chilly arms.
“However . . .” Simon paused for effect as Addie squirmed in her seat, glaring at him for being overly dramatic. “When Blake’s company came in some months ago to start the cleanup and appraisal process, the cleaners reported to the police that it was clear someone had been living in the house recently.”
“What did Marc say to that?”
“He told Blake to tell them that was impossible because every shift an officer would drive by and do security checks.”
“Is that why Blake was so reluctant to report the thefts to the police after that?”
“It most likely played a part in it. Blake also told Marc that he didn’t report the thefts because he thought it was a staff member, based on the fact that there was never any sign of someone having broken into the house. So he took actions himself to try and stop the pilfering.”
“But they still continued.” Addie shivered and glanced at the painting. “I guess that’s why the tale of the house being haunted is spreading like wildfire right now. People want an explanation of what’s happening here regardless of how ludicrous.”
Simon’s eyebrows rose with questions.
“Serena told me,” Addie said, shifting in her seat, “that Arthur and Maeve Gallagher lived in the house with their son, William, who at the age of twenty-one had a major falling out with his father and left home in 1945 and never came back. Both his parents died five years later in 1950 under mysterious circumstances.”
“You mean when William left, he never returned to Greyborne Harbor after that?”
Addie shook her head. “He didn’t even come back for their funerals.”
“That must have been some falling out.”
Addie shrugged. “No one seems to know what happened between them. I guess in William’s mind, his actions were justified.”
“If he never came back, does that mean the house has been vacant since 1950?”
“Yeah, from what Serena said. William then ordered the house closed up, and it remained so until the court seized it for back taxes. I guess William passed away a few years ago, and the taxes fell into arrears. So the courts ordered the entire property and all contents to go to public sale and auction to pay off the money owed.”
“But if he had no intention of returning, why didn’t he just sell it so he didn’t have to pay the taxes on it for all those years?”
“Who knows, really? But there’s more to the story. William had a young wife, Kathleen, who also met with her demise right here in Hill Road House.”
“You’re kidding. What happened?”
“I guess it was during the young couple’s first year of marriage in 1945 and shortly after the birth of their son. Apparently, Kathleen tripped over a frayed carpet edge at the top of the stairs and fell to her death. However, on inspection at the time, officers couldn’t find evidence of the carpet being in need of repair.”
“What did the police report say about it?”
“Not much. Serena said at the time it was classified an accident. They figured if she didn’t trip, she must have lost her balance. I guess given the recent birth and the fact it was in the middle of the night, they assumed she was dizzy and disorientated.”
“It sounds like this William had a lot of tragedy in his young life.”
Addie recalled her own personal tragedies. She knew all too well the gut-wrenching pain that follows losing everyone you love. “It was shortly after her death that William and his parents had the falling out and he left for good.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“Apparently he left it with his parents when he took off. Then five years later they both died.”
“What was the ruling in the deaths of Arthur and Maeve?”
“Double suicide.” Addie pressed her lips into a thin line. “Locals believe that it was the continual sightings of Kathleen’s ghost that brought about their deaths. It’s still rumored to this day that her ghost, and most likely theirs, too, still walk the corridors of this house.”
“And what happened to the child?”
“No one knows, he disappeared the same night they died. Just vanished—they couldn’t find any trace of him.”
“I’m sure the police didn’t believe the ghost-story rumors. Their investigation must have showed something. Some evidence pointing to what happened?”
Addie shook her head. “Remember, it was 1950, and they didn’t have the benefit of current fingerprinting techniques and a DNA database. At the time, investigators could find no evidence of what happened to the child, or a murder weapon, or signs of an intruder having entered the house.”
“Plus, they couldn’t really admit it could have been Kathleen’s ghost that caused all the events, could they?”
“No, they couldn’t.” Addie frowned and shot forward in her seat. “I just had a thought. Maybe that’s why William never sold the house. He was hoping his son would return someday.”
Simon glanced over at the fireplace.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, following his gaze.
“Maybe he did . . . or never left. He would have been about five when his grandparents died. Maybe in all the commotion he got scared and went into hiding but got trapped. That stench in the tunnel . . . it makes you wonder if one of the mysteries might be solved soon.”
The library doors burst open and Addie shot to her feet. Marc’s soft-brown eyes darkened as he pinned her with a look.
Chapter 24
“Well, well, why am I not surprised to find you here, Miss Greyborne?” Marc stood at the door, his arms folded across his chest. “It seems you just can’t stay away from the scene of a crime, can you?”
Addie prepared a snappy comeback, but Simon placed a warning hand on her arm. “I think you’ll be most interested in seeing what our Miss Greyborne has uncovered, Chief.” Simon motioned toward the fireplace opening.
Marc’s eyes never left Addie’s face. “That’s not hard to believe. You always were good at finding hidden compartments
, weren’t you?” His lip turned up in a half smile before he moved toward the fireplace.
“I think,” Simon said as he joined him, “this answers a lot of questions about how the thief got into a locked room and managed to sneak all the missing antiques out of the house. It’s the perfect place to store stuff until the house is vacated for the day and take it out under the cover of night.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question about the staff returning to find the doors locked with no signs of forced entry—or, in this case, forced exit. Unless”—he crouched down and peered into the small brick room.—“this leads somewhere.”
“Then you might want a couple of hazmat suits.” Addie stepped up beside Marc. “We also found a staircase hidden under the floorboards. If your people can find evidence that it’s been recently used, then maybe it leads to another exit.”
Marc’s brows knitted as he frowned. “We can’t find any evidence of another door or entry into the house other than the front door and the rear door off the kitchen.”
“Well, it might be worth checking out anyway.”
“We will.” Marc stiffened. “After all, that is what the police do.” He snapped on a pair of blue rubber gloves and ducked into the brick room. Close on his heels were Jerry and another officer who motioned for Addie and Simon to remain on the library side.
Not wanting to miss a word of what was going on, Addie crouched down so she could overhear what was being said.
“It looks like we have a bit of work to do in here. Steve, can you run out to Jerry’s van and get two of those disposable hazmat suits?”
Addie looked up at Simon. A Cheshire cat grin spread across her face. Steve crawled out past them back into the library and, by the puzzled expression on his face when he stood up, Addie could see that he, too, wasn’t certain what to make of the unexpected reveal. All the way to the library door, he shook his head and could be heard muttering to himself.
“Miss Greyborne, Dr. Emerson, can you join us please,” Marc called.
She winked at Simon as they ducked under the mantel and joined him inside the small room.
Proof of Murder Page 19
