by Lynsay Sands
"No, I didn't know," Jane murmured, reaching out instinctively when Trixie stumbled over Tinkle. The dog had leapt off Gran's lap and directly into the Realtor's path on the black tarred driveway, but the Realtor caught herself and Jane pulled back without having to help.
"Oh, what a delightful puppy. Aren't you a pretty girl?" the Realtor said.
Jane's eyes widened in alarm as Trixie knelt to pet Tinkle. She opened her mouth in warning, then bit her lip when the Yorkie behaved, rolling onto her back, belly up, to be petted.
"Stupid mutt," Abel said at Jane's side.
She bit back a laugh, then told him, "Yes, but she's a pretty good judge of character. She only likes those who turn out to be slightly shady or completely evil."
Abel shook his head. "That figures. Then I suppose I should be flattered she tried to take a chunk out of me."
Jane chuckled.
"It's a shame about Arthur." Trixie straightened with Tinkle in her arms, and the silly creature went wild cuddling close and trying to lick the Realtor's face. "He hasn't been well for a while, of course. Such a burden for poor Beatrice. And then for her to have to care for this huge house, too." Trixie shook her head. "I expected her to put the house on the market any time now, and I have been checking in with her every once in a while to see if it was time yet. She never mentioned anything about a clinic in Europe."
Jane managed to keep her revulsion hidden. This woman was a vulture! Checking to see if it was "time to put the house on the market yet?" Dear Lord! Jane felt sympathy well up for her supposed aunt.
"The clinic was my idea," Gran announced. She was glaring at the woman holding her precious Tinkle. Maggie Spyrus could be a bit jealous of the dog's affection. "I was reading about it in Cosmo. I mentioned it to her some months ago. She wasn't terribly interested then, but when Arthur took this turn..." She shrugged and held out her arms. "Come, Tinkle."
The Yorkie hesitated, appearing reluctant to leave Trixie Leto. But then, apparently recalling where and how her bread was buttered, she squirmed free of the Realtor's arms and leapt back into Gran's lap.
"Good girl," Maggie crooned, all smiles once more.
"Well, it was good of you to agree to house-sit while they're gone," Trixie commented stiffly, looking put out by the dog's defection. She turned abruptly and led the way into the garage, addressing Jane. "As you can see, the elevator man has already been and installed the elevator needed for your grandmother. They were just finishing up when I arrived. Beatrice must have let them in before she left. Foolish of her to leave them here on their own. I'd have come over sooner to watch them had she mentioned it."
Jane followed Trixie's gesture to the shiny new elevator in the back corner of the garage. The house was built on an incline; its driveway and garage were on ground level but then the front yard swept up steeply to the right. The front yard and two-thirds of the house were perched on a green hill. The other third crouched over the garage. The only ways into the dwelling itself were a set of stairs at the back of the garage next to the new elevator, or a set of some forty steps leading up from the driveway to the front door. Wheelchairs and stairs were not compatible, so the elevator had been a necessity that Jane wasn't surprised the people of B.L.I.S.S. had recognized. They sure were good with details.
"You are so fortunate to have a lovely granddaughter willing to take care of you in your old age," Trixie shouted at Gran as if Gran might be deaf, doddering, or both. Since she hadn't done so earlier, Jane could only surmise that this was the woman's petty punishment for Tinkle's defection.
Maggie Spyrus was not amused. Jane recognized the fire in her gran's eyes and took a moment to be grateful her bag was in the car. Had she let Gran bring it, Trixie Leto would surely be lying unconscious on the paved driveway.
"I suppose we should test the elevator out. Then I can give you a tour of the house," Trixie went on gaily, obviously cheered by the fact that she'd irritated Gran. She stumbled toward the corner of the garage.
"That won't be necessary," Abel announced, and Jane threw a grateful glance his way. Apparently, she herself wasn't the only one eager to escape Trixie's company. They could find their way around the house themselves.
The Realtor turned in surprise. "But--"
"We don't need a tour. So, if you'd just give us the keys...?" He held out his hand in uncompromising demand; and Trixie Leto seemed to slump with disappointment. Her lips pursed into a pout that might have been sexy some thirty years earlier, but now just emphasized ridiculously the wrinkles around her lips.
"We have visited before," Jane lied gently, suddenly feeling sorry for the woman. She didn't think Trixie meant to be so irritating; the woman was just sort of pathetic. "We appreciate the trouble you went to, helping Aunt Beatrice out like this, but we also realize how busy you must be."
"Oh, yes." Straightening, the Realtor took her chance to save face and moved back toward them. "I have ever so much to do! It's truly a blessing that you don't need a tour." The words came out in a fruity wave of breath as she handed the keys to Jane. "Since you're all set, I can get on with my busy day! Enjoy your stay!" she finished in her ever-gay voice. Then she stumbled past them up the slanted driveway.
"Pathetic," Gran said with disgust as they watched Trixie Leto fall into her little red sports car.
"Yes, well..." Jane grasped the handles of Gran's wheelchair and turned her back into the garage. "Not everyone can age as gracefully as you."
"No." Maggie smiled and straightened the lap rug Jane had placed around her legs. "That's true."
Abel followed them onto the elevator, glancing curiously around as Jane pushed the button to close the door, then a second button to set it in motion. "I didn't even think of the trouble we would have with stairs. Your people think of everything."
"Yes, they do," Gran said with pride.
Jane kept her thoughts to herself. She'd had similar feelings; but now that she thought about it she bet Ira Manetrue had ensured the wheelchair access. He had a huge crush on her grandmother. He wouldn't forget something like that.
The elevator doors opened and Jane wheeled Gran out onto an off-white Berber carpet.
"Expensive," Gran commented, then glanced both ways down the hallway. To their left it went for only a short distance before opening into what appeared to be a kitchen. To their right it ran for a good distance with several doors leading off into other rooms.
"Let's have a look around." Gran gestured to their right and Jane turned her in that direction and moved forward. The first room they came to was a laundry room; the second, a bathroom. The rest, four in all, were bedrooms, two with en suite bathrooms and two without. Every room had a bed, a dresser, an end table, and even chairs and entertainment systems that included televisions and DVD players.
They took a few moments looking these rooms over, then headed back up the hall. Jane almost sighed with pleasure as they entered the kitchen. It was huge. A large island stood in the middle with two sinks and a large tiled counter. Glasses, pots, and pans hung from a rack above. The rest of the room was lined with counter space and filled with two of almost everything; two stoves, two dishwashers, two microwaves. The amount of cupboard space was enough to make any woman happy. It had obviously been designed for people who entertained. A lot.
Jane wasn't big on cooking. She'd taken after Gran that way, but even she could appreciate the functionality of this room.
"I love the dining room set."
Jane took Gran's hint and moved on, pushing across the linoleum floor to the dining room. A large light table with eight chairs filled this space. The far wall held a large hutch of the same wood, its upper half made of glass windows to display a healthy amount of Waterford crystal and a charming china set with a cream background, gold rim, and autumn flowers. Everything matched nicely with the large ceramic rooster set in the center of the table and surrounded by colorful squash. Mrs. Goodinov had already started laying out the Thanksgiving decorations!
"Nice."
Hearing that soft murmur from Abel, Jane followed his glance to their left where French doors led out onto a large deck. But it was the view that had caught Abel's attention. The house was on a hill that sloped out of the valley, so the deck looked out over trees taking on fall colors and sloping away up the side of the mountain.
"What a view," Jane breathed, beginning to think she might enjoy this assignment after all.
"Lovely," Gran agreed. "We can look at that later, though. Let's see the rest of the house."
Turning reluctantly away from the panorama, Jane wheeled Gran through the far doorway into the next room--where they all paused abruptly.
Dear Lord, this room was gigantic! Huge! As big as the great hall in medieval castles of old. It had high vaulted ceilings with wooden beams. Glass windows and French doors comprised the wall looking out over the deck, and there was a fireplace large enough for half a dozen people to stand in and a regulation-size pool table as well.
Closer to hand, a small kitchenette bar and hugescreen television had been built into the wall directly beside them. A small group of overstuffed furniture sat before it, leaving acres of space for a piano against the opposite wall.
"It's like a ballroom, only carpeted." Gran sounded impressed.
"Yes, it is. But Mrs. Goodinov did a good job of making it cozy," Jane commented. There came a knocking sound to their right.
This room, like the hallway, was carpeted in Berber, but there were two stairs directly beside where Jane stood. They ran the width of the room and led up to a hardwood floor that covered the first ten or fifteen feet, making something of an open entry. The hardwood stopped at a huge set of double doors that a truck could have driven through. These doors were where the knocking originated.
Before Jane could speak Abel jogged up the two steps and pulled the huge door open. Standing where she was Jane had a clear view of the man in the doorway, and she moved forward as she recognized the courier from the motel.
"Oh, there you are. I have a package for you," the courier said. He stepped back out of sight behind the other door. Reappearing he had a trolley with two boxes stacked on it.
She reached Abel's side and asked warily, "What's that?" She peered at the boxes.
The courier shrugged. "I'm just the delivery guy. I was told to deliver this directly to the head operative"--he checked his clipboard--"Jane Spyrus. Which is you, right?"
"Yes," she said faintly, the title "head operative" making her queasy. How had she ended up as head operative? Gran had the experience.
"It's standard issue, Janie, dear," Gran announced. "Sign for it and have him put it in whichever one of the bedrooms you want."
Jane accepted the clipboard and signed on the line titled Received By, then handed the board back and peered curiously at her loot.
"Where should I put them?" the courier asked.
Jane forced herself to think. They hadn't seen the whole house yet. There was another hallway leading off this large ballroom, opposite the doorway into the dining room. That unexplored end of the house was the side that looked toward where Edie was being held captive. Unfortunately, while it seemed a good possibility there were bedrooms on both sides of the house, there were three steps leading up to this wing. Maggie couldn't manage those steps in her wheelchair, and Jane wanted to sleep close to Gran in case she was needed. They would both have to take rooms in the first wing.
"Follow me," she said and headed back.
The courier wheeled the trolley across the hardwood floor, bumped it gently down the two steps, then followed Jane silently through the dining room and kitchen and to the hall with its cluster of bedrooms. Jane chose the first one on the right, had the courier set the boxes on the floor by the bed, then escorted him back through the house.
Abel and Gran were no longer in the great room, but voices off to Jane's right as she closed the front door behind the courier drew her attention to another room she hadn't noticed. An arched doorway off the ballroom led into a library situated in front of the kitchen. Abel and Gran were inside talking.
"There she is." Gran smiled as Jane entered. "You and Abel should go look at the rest of the house."
"Yes. We'll do that right now," Jane agreed.
As she moved to take the handles of Gran's wheelchair, the older woman waved her off. "Don't bother with me. The stairs rather cut me off from that wing of the house anyway."
"It's only two or three steps, Gran," Jane protested. "I can maneuver you up those, at least to see it."
"Too much trouble. You two go along yourselves. I'll wheel myself out onto the deck and look at the view."
Shrugging, Jane followed Abel. He was already walking out of the room, up the steps Gran mentioned, into another much smaller hallway. There were only three doors. The one on the right led into an office with two computers, the sight of which made Jane curious. She'd assumed the Goodinovs were retired, but this room was definitely set up as a home office.
Leaving it a mystery, Jane turned to peer through the door on the left. It revealed a large bathroom with a skylight. Very large, Jane thought, her gaze taking in the glass shower, the miles of counter, the two sinks, and the plants that had been set out to fill the space.
"I like this house," Abel announced.
Jane laughed. "Bet you wouldn't like cleaning it."
"Yeah. Everything has its drawbacks."
Turning as one, they moved along the hall to the last door. It led into the master suite, a room easily twice the size of any of the other bedrooms. Half the chamber featured a tall king-size bed that looked so comfortable to Jane she almost sighed. The other half was furnished with a couch, chairs, tables, and another big-screen TV. Jane took in the overstuffed couch and chairs with their large contemporary-patterned upholstery meant to make the room look less cavernous, then turned into the en suite bathroom. It was a dream as well, featuring a skylight, a sunken sauna, his and hers sinks each with a mirrored counter, toilet and bidet.
"Well." Abel paused behind her in the bathroom.
"Maggie can't stay here, so I guess it's between you and me. Who gets this room?"
"I have to stay close to Gran," Jane said reluctantly. She wished she didn't--not just because she would have liked this room for herself, but because it was the one facing the Ensecksi house. Also a drawback of her not getting it: The room featured a door of its own, which meant Abel could, if he wanted, slip out without Jane knowing and do any number of stupid things in a misguided effort to save his sister.
"I won't do anything to endanger Edie," he said as if reading her mind. "I promise. I won't slip out in the middle of the night to play soldier boy."
Jane relaxed and nodded. "Thank you."
"I guess I'll start bringing in our bags." Moving around her, Abel left the bathroom.
Jane followed more slowly. Back in the bedroom she moved to the door beside the bed. Opening it, she peered through the screen at the grass and trees outside. The hill the house sat on rolled along for a good thirty feet beyond, then dropped off and down. The house next door, the Ensecksi abode, had been built at the hill's base. Its roof was all that showed from where Jane stood, its brown shingles peeking from between the trees no doubt meant to act as a privacy fence.
She would have to trust Abel, she supposed. Or handcuff him to that huge bed at night. The thought made her smile, and she went back inside silently.
"Abel's gone to fetch Mr. Tibbs," Gran announced when Jane appeared on the back deck. Tinkle had given up her position on Gran's lap and was now racing about sniffing the air, the deck, and anything else she could find.
The sight of the hyper dog made Jane ask, "What are we going to do about Tinkle and Mr. Tibbs?"
"Oh, they'll be fine. They'll scrap it out, then settle down like a couple of peas in a pod."
Jane was a bit doubtful, but she decided to wait and see what happened. If it came to a scrap, her money was on Mr. Tibbs. The cat might have been terrified in the motel room, but he was almost twice the size
of Tinkle. One swat from his paw ought to give the dog an attitude adjustment. She wouldn't mind seeing that.
"I'm going to take a look at those boxes the courier brought," Jane announced, turning toward the French doors to the dining room. "Which of the bedrooms do you prefer?"
"The first on the left, I think," Gran decided. "I'll take Tinkle along in a moment."
Jane nodded and kept walking to the boxes were where they'd been left, but Jane had to make a quick trip back to the kitchen for something to open them. She found a paring knife, then stopped to take a quick look through the cupboards, refrigerator, and freezer. The sight made her pause. There was a large variety of foodstuffs, and everything was new and unopened. Jane suspected B.L.I.S.S. had brought in this food and moved out the Goodinovs'--but only Gran would know if that was the usual routine. She'd ask later. Right now, she was too curious to see what was in the boxes in the other room.
Leaving the kitchen, Jane hurried back to the bedroom and sliced open her deliveries. Folding back the flaps of first one box, then the other, Jane gave a murmur of delight as she found a lovely assortment of listening devices, infrared cameras and weapons. Ignoring the guns, she picked up a long microphone. Its holder made it look like a weapon.
"What's that?"
Jane gave a start and nearly dropped the microphone as she glanced about.
"Sorry." Abel gave up his position by the door and walked to her side to peer curiously at the contents of her boxes.
"It's a shotgun microphone," Jane answered, forcing herself not to cover the boxes and hide their contents. This man was going to help. He would need to know what everything was.
He took the apparatus she held to examine it, then glanced into the box and pointed at a microphone set in the middle of what looked like a satellite dish. "What's that?"
"A parabolic microphone," Jane said.
"Stuff to listen to our neighbors, huh?"
"Yes," Jane answered, terribly aware of his nearness. She swallowed as his arm brushed hers, then cleared her throat and asked, "Did Tinkle attack Mr. Tibbs the moment you let him out of his cage?"
"Hm?" He glanced at her distractedly, then said, "Oh. No. I let Mr. Tibbs loose in the end bedroom and closed the door to keep the dog out." He set the shotgun microphone back in its box and added, "Which reminds me why I came to get you. I think you're supposed to sleep in the master bedroom."
