“Show me where you discovered this hidden door covering the staircase.”
Addie ran her foot over the floorboards until her toe caught on the uneven edge. She bent down, slid her fingers under the lifted corner, and pulled. The three-by-three hinged door opened up, revealing their earlier discovery. She leaned the lid against the back wall and stepped away as the putrid odor from below threatened to send her toppling in a faint down the algae-covered staircase.
Marc held his hand to his face and gasped. “What is that wretched smell?”
Jerry sneezed and turned his head away.
“It smells like a corpse to me and if a suspicion I have is right, that’s exactly what you’re going to find down there,” Simon said, seemingly unaffected by the wafting stench.
Addie veered her face away “You must be used to this.”
“One never gets used to the smell of death. It only becomes less obtrusive over the years.”
Bile formed in the back of her throat. She came to the quick conclusion that Simon could keep his dead bodies and nasty-smelling job.
Steve returned, wearing a white hazmat suit and oxygen mask. Another suit was draped over his arm, and he juggled a second mask and a coil of rope with his gloved hands. Addie curled her fingers into her palms to keep them from ripping the mask off his face and covering hers.
Jerry wrestled into the other one. If the odor in the small room had not been so revolting, Addie might have laughed at the sight of the two police officers dressed in their alien space suits.
Marc gave his men instructions, unraveling the long rope that was attached by a clip on the belt of each man. Little by little, as they descended into the depths of the house, he released more of the rope. There was a sharp jerk followed by a crackling noise across the speaker of the police radio on his shoulder. The rope went slack.
Marc pulled on it. The rope bounced up in a snarled heap at his feet. “Why would they unclip themselves?”
“I guess they are farther than the two hundred feet of rope you have.” Simon toed the coiled rope at the edge of the abyss.
Marc tried to reach the two officers on his police radio. No answer. “What happened? They couldn’t have just disappeared.” Panic edged in his voice.
“Hey, Chief,” a garbled voice came over Marc’s radio, “can you go into the garden by the back door?”
Marc acknowledged the request and glanced at Addie and Simon. “What the heck?”
The three sprinted out onto the back porch. Addie shielded her eyes from the blazing sun on the horizon and laughed. There, by the yard sale tent, stood the two officers, their once-white suits covered with grime and greenish-gray sludge.
Marc rammed a hand through his hair “What the—?”
Jerry stepped forward—at least Addie thought it was Jerry based on the size of the looming swamp creature. He waved his hand toward the back stonewall fence and said something none of them could make out.
“Take your mask off, Jerry,” Marc barked.
Jerry raised his oxygen face mask and repeated. “The stairs lead to a tunnel that comes out under a trapdoor buried in the overgrowth at the back of the garden.”
Addie caught her lip between her teeth to keep from smiling. “I guess that answers the question of how someone got the missing property out of the house.” She cut Marc a smug glance.
“Not really, Miss Greyborne.” Jerry tucked the mask under his arm. “The green slime doesn’t appear to have been disturbed by anything larger than critters in probably a hundred years.”
“Oh.” Addie winced and glanced apologetically at Marc.
“What about the decaying corpse smell?” Simon piped in.
“Rats, lots and lots of rats, and some carcasses. Looks like mostly racoons and squirrels.”
“No human remains?”
“Nope.”
“So much for my theory.” Simon shot Addie a side glance.
“I guess we’re back to my original theory.” She nudged Simon’s arm. “The culprits hid out in the brick room until the coast was clear and took the stolen loot out of the house after everyone left for the day.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question of the staff returning in the morning to find the house locked up and no signs of a break-in.” Simon turned a probing eye on Marc.
“That’s true,” Addie said. “Blake’s theory about it being a staff person might be right after all.”
“It’s time we ran a complete background check on his entire crew.” With a head tic, Marc gestured to Jerry and Steve. “You guys get cleaned up and meet us back inside.”
“You two”—Marc waved a finger at Addie and Simon—“wait in there.” He pointed to the library door as he veered off toward the sound of Blake’s voice coming from the top of the stairway.
* * *
“Okay,” Marc said to Addie and Simon a few minutes later from the library doorway, “tell me everything you found today, how, and what you touched.”
When Jerry and Steve returned, looking much better after their tunnel adventures, he instructed them to comb through the brick room and around the mantel with a fine-toothed comb.
“So,” he said, eyes focused on Addie, “what made you think of using the tip of the feather pen as a lever to open the hidden chamber door?”
“Because the pen was on the desk the morning I discovered the body. But when I came back earlier today—”
Marc’s brows shot to his hairline.
Well, when one steps into a pile of doo-doo, there’s no wiping it off to cover it up, so she had to at least make it look good. “I came back this morning to see Blake, but he was busy with the police. I was concerned about the books in the library, because . . .” She brushed some hairs from her eyes, buying time until she remembered the reason aside from her insatiable curiosity. “I saw smoke in the hallway.” She was on a roll now. “Jerry came in to check the room with me. That’s when I noticed the pen wasn’t in the inkwell, and I asked him why the police took it.” She flicked a glance at Jerry and decided to not count the bulging veins on Marc’s forehead. “He said it hadn’t been taken in evidence and had no idea where it went.”
Marc shot Jerry a piercing glare. Jerry resumed dusting the mantel for prints; red blotches mottled his face.
Addie wove her fingers together then took them apart in front of her. The awkwardness of the situation didn’t escape her, but she knew Marc well enough to know it was best to ignore the tension between him and Jerry, even though she’d brought it on. Her calling attention to it would only hinder not help. She shifted her weight and forged ahead with her statement. “Later, Simon and I came in to have a look, because Blake told us there had been more thefts and asked me to check the table for any more missing first editions. I found the pen lying on the floor in front of the fireplace.”
Without looking up, Marc scribbled in his notebook. “What then?”
“It seemed odd that it wasn’t here earlier then suddenly it was. So it made me think that the pen must mean something. I took another look at the scrollwork on the mantel edge and noticed one of the decorative holes had some fine scratch marks around it. On a hunch, I picked up the pen.” She hitched her hands on her hips. “Don’t go getting your boxers in a bunch. I had a glove on. Anyway, where was I?”
“Picked up the pen,” Simon offered, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“That’s right. I stabbed the pen into the center of the hole.” She waved her hand toward the open hearth. “And this is what we discovered.”
“Simon, can you corroborate this?”
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “It happened exactly as she said.”
“Now”—Addie didn’t care that her voice possessed an edge of defiance—“will you consider my theory that Charlotte’s death and the book thefts are related?”
“How so?”
“Obviously the killer was hiding in here to wait for her to leave. Maybe he or she got tired of waiting and decided to rush things alon
g?”
With no acknowledgment of her sharpened tone, Marc directed his focus on Simon. “Have you completed the autopsy yet?”
“No, I’m still running a few tests.”
“There you go, Addie. No proof of a murder, and unless there is, all I can do is investigate a grand larceny case.” His voice sounded strangled.
“All done in there, Chief.” Steve emerged from the chamber. “There’s nothing. No prints, no fibers. It’s as clean as a whistle.”
“Even on the step stool?”
“No, Chief. I’d say our thief is a pro.”
“What about the wood ash dragged into the chamber opening by someone? Any usable footprints there?”
“No, there wasn’t enough ash for a good mold. Only partials, nothing conclusive.”
“Pack it up, then. I guess we’re done. At least this is a lead on where the merchandise was likely stashed until it could be moved out. We only have to try and figure out who knew about this hidden room.”
“That could be one of over twenty people.” Jerry pressed the pen nib into the hole Addie had shown them earlier. The back of the hearth slid back into place.
“Can we go now, Marc?” Addie asked. “It’s late, and neither of us has eaten.”
Marc glanced at his watch. “You’re right, and I’m late for a dinner date.” He snapped his notebook closed. “That’s all for now, but I may have more questions—”
“I know the drill. Don’t leave town and all that, yadda, yadda, yadda.” Addie swung her tote bag over her shoulder.
“By the way.” Marc shoved his pad into his jacket pocket. “Just before I got your call, the DA phoned and said he was dropping the charges against you.”
“And you’ve been here how long now and didn’t say a word about that?”
Marc ignored her comment. “It seems Simon was most convincing in the evidence he produced showing that you were, in fact, asleep at the time of the robbery.”
Addie puffed out her chest. “I think these other robberies also prove that I was never the guilty suspect.” She spun on her heel and stopped. “Does your new partner”—she emphasized the word, knowing Marc never liked it when she called herself that—“know about this?” At the tic of his right eye, she grunted. “I take it she doesn’t. Where is she? I’ve gotten used to seeing her shadow you.”
“Not that it really concerns you, but she had another matter to look after today.” His gaze dropped. “I’m meeting up with her soon.”
“Give her my best when you tell her the news about me no longer being her number-one suspect. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
Marc fixed his cheerless eyes on hers. “Addie, it was never her intent to implicate you in any of this.”
“Wasn’t it? Right from the beginning, she did nothing but try to prove to you that I was guilty of stealing the Holmes books.”
“That’s not it. It’s just that she’s very good at her job, and she was following the evidence, as all good officers of the law do.”
“I think she took it a bit too personally, though, don’t you?”
Simon laid his hand on Addie’s arm and steered her from the room. “Don’t go poking the bear,” he whispered. “Just count yourself lucky, and let’s go.” When they were in the hallway, his blue eyes were void of their usual sparkle. “Care to tell me what’s going on with you two?”
“What do you mean?” She searched his face.
“All this back-and-forth snipping between the two of you.” He dropped his gaze. “It’s all too reminiscent of when you were chasing his ghosts last year.”
The corner of her mouth twitched as he walked away.
“I am chasing a ghost,” she called, her voice uneven.
He stopped at the door but didn’t turn to look at her.
“Only it’s not the one you think.” She ran to him, threw her arms around his shoulders, and nestled her cheek into his back. “Don’t worry, ever,” she whispered. “That ghost was laid to rest. We’ve both moved on. It’s the person he’s moved on with who concerns me.”
“What I don’t understand is why you’re letting her get under your skin if you’re not still feeling something for Marc?” His blue eyes darkened and filled with the pain. “Are you jealous of her?”
“Me? No, of course not. Why would you even ask? Marc and I have been over for months. You’re my person, not him.”
“Are you sure about that? It’s just that I can’t ever go back to the way it was before: always the three of us even when you and I were alone, him lurking in the shadows of your mind.”
“Stop right there.” She cupped his face in her hands and placed a whisper-light kiss on his lips. “I just don’t like being accused of theft. It’s like a sane person trying to prove she’s not crazy. The more she protests, the crazier she appears. I was starting to feel like that until you finally proved I couldn’t have been there.”
Simon leaned his forehead against hers. “I guess I just wasn’t prepared for all this when he finally came back. It was nice when he was away. I knew I had your full attention. I guess my insecurities got the best of me. It’s just that I . . .”
“You what?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” He opened the door.
“Wait, we can’t forget—” She eyed her lamp with the SOLD tag waiting for her by the front door. It probably wouldn’t fit in his Tesla Roadster anyway. She could pick it up tomorrow. After all, it was Sunday, and her shop was closed. Besides, it would give her an excuse to come into the house while everyone was busy with the final day of the sale out back. There were still too many questions about the evening’s discovery and too many puzzle pieces that weren’t fitting. She glanced up at the top of the stairs, pursed her lips, and then stepped out onto the porch.
“Wait for what?”
“Me.” Slipping her hand into his, she rested her head on his shoulder as they ambled down the sidewalk.
Chapter 25
Addie shoved the last piece of her burger into her mouth as Simon slurped up the last dregs of his strawberry milkshake. She tossed the wrappings into the trash can beside her back-room desk and sucked on the straw of her chocolate shake, reviewing the information on her blackboard.
Kalea, her disappearing cousin.
Blake, and the argument between he and Charlotte proving there was no love lost between them.
Then there was the altercation Blake had with Duane, Charlotte’s brother, and how Blake had threatened him.
She set down her shake and wrote Duane $ ? and underlined it twice to highlight the man’s desperation for money.
Robert, assistant to Charlotte who did not keep his feelings about his overly demanding employer private.
Garrett, Blake’s nephew who would take over the auction business once Blake deemed him worthy, and the last person to see Kalea. She drew a line between Garrett’s name and her cousin’s. Was he the inside source, or was he the reason no one had heard from or could find any trace of Kalea? Addie shivered, pushing aside the images that thought conjured in her mind.
She refocused on the board. Philip Atkinson, unscrupulous broker, and in general an all-around jerk, complete with a vendetta against her. He hadn’t gotten over her shaming him with the board of directors at the British Museum when she proved his false accusations against her were just that.
“There’s a lot of information on there,” Simon said. “Any ideas yet how it all fits together?”
A grin spread across Addie’s face. “I think it’s time we put on our Sherlock Holmes caps, light our pipes, and see how all these pieces fall into place. As the Master Detective himself would probably say—there has to be one key element here.”
Library door bolted from inside
Windows securely latched from inside – sash warped, unable to be opened without breaking window
No other entrance to room
Tipped over teacup
Books on floor dropped after tea spilt
Feather pen from inkwell on desk mi
ssing
Missing laptop?
Rare books and original magazine edition of debut story exchanged for cheap reproductions
Angle of the desk chair turned toward fireplace
Books on center display table, disturbed missing price/info cards
Firebox ashes smeared across hearth and floor
Faint footprint on throw carpet by desk – stepping in spilt tea?
My fingerprints on window ledge and pry bar and broken acrylic nail found outside of window!
Simon wiped his fingers on a paper napkin, plucked the piece of chalk from Addie’s fingers, and added reappeared beside Feather pen from inkwell on desk missing. Then he wrote hidden chamber beside No other entrance to room, then drew a line from it to Door bolted from inside and an arrow to Windows securely latched from inside. “I think with our discovery of the chamber we solved that one.”
“Except,” she said, glancing at him, “that’s not an entrance. It’s just a possible hiding place.”
“You’re forgetting about the tunnel that leads out to the edge of the back gardens.”
“You heard Jerry. He said it doesn’t look like anyone’s been inside there for over a hundred years.”
“True, but it would only take once or twice for someone else to make that trek. It’s dark down there and smelly. Jerry and Steve were probably a little disturbed by the rats and dead racoons they stumbled over. My guess is that their investigation was a fairly quick one. They might have missed some small clue like a piece of disturbed moss or scraped algae on the old brick stairs.”
“Look at you go, Sherlock.” Addie laughed.
“Does that make you my Watson?”
“I always thought more of myself as Holmes and you Watson.” She stole back her chalk and wrote Peephole in picture above fireplace. Plastic stepladder and other books and collectables missing.
“Very good, now what would Holmes say in a case like this?” Simon gestured to the board.
“He’d say, ‘Not everything is as it appears; sometimes it’s what we don’t see by clues and evidence that’s the most important.’ ”
“You mean a gut feeling?”
Proof of Murder Page 20
