1 The Ghost in the Basement

by SUE FINEMAN

  Donovan glanced at one face and then the other. “Be a shame to keep those things to ourselves, but it would mean risking your own jobs.”

  “Come on, Donovan,” said Joseph. “Who wants to work for a creep who screws the suspects and hides evidence?”

  Donovan froze. “Can you prove that?”

  “With names, dates, and pictures.”

  “And videos,” said Jalinski. “I gave them to the captain last year, and nothing happened, but I made copies. The way things work around that place, you need to keep a CYA file.”

  Donovan had a Cover-Your-Ass file, too. With their pictures and videos and testimony, and with whatever Perkins had, they could end Cordelli’s police career. Chief Vittore, who’d been protecting Cordelli all these years, would go out with him. If someone tried to fire the detectives who produced the evidence, the public outcry would force the politicians to listen.

  If they didn’t wait until this case was closed, Cordelli or Vittore could decide to rip the house apart in the guise of looking for evidence. He couldn’t let that happen. “We’ll have to wait until this case is put to bed. If you’re still willing, we’ll do it then.”

  “Hey, I’ve been willing since the day I went to work for that piece of shit,” said Joseph.

  Donovan hated to drag the department through the media, but if that was what it took to get rid of Cordelli, he’d do it. It could backfire, though, and he could lose credibility in the law enforcement community, which could prevent him from doing police work in another city. He loved what he did, but if necessary, he’d find a job doing something else.

  <>

  Hannah welcomed the police activity in the house, if only because it gave her something else to think about besides Donovan’s lopsided smile. Her lips tingled in anticipation of his next kiss. It was crazy to have a schoolgirl crush like this, but she couldn’t turn off her feelings if she wanted. Keeping busy was the only antidote.

  While Donovan worked upstairs with Cordelli’s men, removing the bloodstained boards in that bedroom, she stripped wallpaper in Grandpa’s bedroom. As she steamed it off the paneling on the wall beside the hidden staircase, she turned quickly to put the steamer down and caught a glimpse of someone standing in the middle of the room, watching her. It was a tiny woman with light brown hair.

  Hannah gasped, the woman faded away, and Hannah was left standing there in stunned silence. She recognized the face from old family photographs, and strangely enough, aside from being shocked at seeing a ghost, she wasn’t frightened.

  “Charity, is this is your bedroom?” Hannah said out loud.

  Donovan poked his head in the door. “Are you talking to me?”

  “No, I was talking to Charity. She’s still here. It isn’t just the diaries, she’s still here in the house. I saw her.”

  “Are you sure it’s her?”

  “Yes. Grandpa had pictures of her. She’s wearing a pretty light blue dress that matches her eyes, and she’s wearing her hair up.”

  “She’s dead, Hannah.”

  “That doesn’t mean she isn’t here, Donovan. Can’t you feel the cold? It’s like it was in the basement, only I’m not right in the middle of it this time. Andrew and Charity are both here. So is Grandma, which means Grandpa is here, too.”

  “What about Charlie?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Donovan walked Hannah down to her bedroom and made her sit on the bed. After the visions, he’d already figured Charity was one of Sonny’s wandering spirits, and Andrew, the murder victim, was the other. He wasn’t sure about Sonny and Virginia or Charlie, but he wasn’t worried about them. They’d released Andrew’s spirit from the basement, and if the killer was still hanging around, this house could turn into a battleground.

  “I wonder what Charity’s bedroom looked like before,” said Hannah. “Do you think she’d show me?”

  “Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask until Perkins and his team are gone.”

  “Donovan,” someone called from the other room.

  “Coming,” he called, and then turned back to Hannah. “Are you okay now?”

  “She was watching me strip wallpaper. I hope she approves of what we’re doing in the house.”

  Pounding in the other room drew his attention. “Hannah, I have to go.”

  She stood. “Then go. I have more wallpaper to strip.”

  She seemed to have recovered, so Donovan went back to the bedroom where Perkins and Jalinski were pulling up floorboards. Hannah went back to work, but Donovan checked on her often to make sure she was okay. She’d seen a ghost today, but this ghost was a friendly one. Charity wouldn’t harm her great-granddaughter. If anything, she was helping them find the truth.

  Donovan wasn’t so sure about the killer, whoever he was. If an evil spirit haunted this house, he didn’t want his son living here.

  <>

  After lunch, while Donovan worked with the men upstairs, Hannah cleaned the dining room. Clouds of dust billowed from the old velvet drapes and the cushions on the window seat, so she took the drapes down and put each one in a big garbage bag. The cushions went in another. The cleaners might be able to restore them, but she doubted it. The sheers were rotten, so she threw them away.

  The formal dining room was only used for special occasions when her grandparents were alive. Although Grandma kept the furniture polished and shining, they nearly always ate in the kitchen, which was warm and fragrant with the wonderful aromas of Grandma’s cooking. Dad used to lift the lids off the pots on the stove and taste things, and Grandma slapped his hand. There was so much love in the kitchen back then, it was easy to understand how someone could call the kitchen the heart of the house. It certainly was in this house.

  The dining room was a large room, with a table that could seat a big family and then some. The walnut table filled the center of the room under a chandelier Hannah realized wasn’t here when she was a little girl. She used to sit on the window seat in the sunshine and read or color, and she definitely remembered a crystal chandelier. The prisms caught the sun and made pretty rainbows on the walls. This one had a round, solid bottom and no prisms.

  Hannah pulled out a chair and kicked off her shoes. Standing on the chair, she brushed down dusty spider webs and bits of dead flies. The center part of the fixture was concave and the six lights around the outside were made to look like candles. The hollow in the center had a place to put a light bulb, but instead of a bulb, a small book with a blue cloth cover was tucked inside.

  As she reached for the book, Donovan called down from upstairs. “Hannah, where’s that diary from 1918?”

  Surely he wasn’t going to give it to Perkins, was he? Donovan said she could trust him, but Perkins worked for Cordelli, and nobody trusted Cordelli.

  Leaving the little blue book in the light fixture, Hannah climbed down. If Donovan expected her to turn over any of those books, he’d better think again. She could lose the house before the year was up, but these books – all of them – belonged to her, not to the River Valley Police Department or Donovan Kane.

  Donovan walked into the dining room with Perkins. “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning, what else?”

  “Hannah, where are the diaries?”

  She didn’t want to answer, but he didn’t give her a choice. “I’ll get the pages I’ve already read.”

  “The books, Hannah. Perkins needs to see the books.”

  Shifting her gaze to the young detective at Donovan’s side, she said, “You can look at them, but they’re not to leave this house.”

  “For now, I just want to see them,” said Perkins, and Hannah knew she had to find a good hiding place for the books before his next visit or she could lose them.

  She sat behind the big desk in the study and opened the bottom drawer. “This is the one from 1912,” she said, handing the little book to Perkins. “Careful, the pages are fragile.”

  Perkins carefully opened the book. “Can you read this?”

  “Bare
ly.” Hannah lifted her chin to glare at Donovan. Bad enough to have detectives swarming all over the house without him giving them things that didn’t belong to him.

  Perkins handed the book back to Hannah. “Donovan tells me you’ve been reading the other diary, the one written the year the house was built.”

  “Yes, I have.” She opened the middle drawer and pulled out a tablet. “Would you like to hear what I’ve read so far?”

  “I sure would.” The two men sat in front of the desk.

  “These are the first few entries:

  “Another year and Cal makes more money every day. I should be grateful to have nice things, but it seems wrong to take advantage of the war like this.”

  She looked up. “I assume that’s how they could afford such a nice house. They were poor farmers when they married in 1912.”

  “Profiteering, they called it,” said Donovan.

  Hannah resumed reading.

  “Another society luncheon today. I hate all the trivial chatter about gowns and parties and such when our boys are suffering and dying on the other side of the world. I don’t want to go to these things, but Cal wants me to fit in.

  “Cal hit me again last night because he didn’t like the pie. My legs are striped with black and blue from his belt. At least he’s careful to hit me where it doesn’t show. No more black eyes or his friends will know of his cruelty. That would never do.”

  “He was still beating on her,” said Donovan.

  “Cal found a place to build the new house. It’s a pretty corner lot on Livingston Avenue. He wants a big house to impress his new friends. If I have to live there with Cal, I’ll hate it no matter now big and nice it is.

  “Cal wants to put Sonny in a private school because that’s where his friends send their children. I wonder if they know Cal comes from a poor farm family and only has a sixth grade education. He told them he went to Harvard.”

  “Harvard?” said Donovan.

  “Amazing that a man so uneducated could pull it off, isn’t it?” said Hannah.

  Perkins nodded.

  “Emaline Goode came to call this morning. She turned her nose up at our rented house. It’s the nicest house we’ve ever lived in, but she went on and on about how glad we’ll be to get settled in a real house, as if this is a shack. She’s almost as bad as Rosemary Duncan. They’re both snobs.

  “Cal hired a builder today, Otis Stanfield. He’ll apply for the building permit next week and start work as soon as the ground thaws. He’s already ordering building materials. Some things are scarce because of the war, but Cal promises to get whatever we need.

  “Our wedding anniversary was yesterday, but Cal didn’t remember. It’s just as well. Six years with a man I hate. I can’t imagine why I married him in the first place. I live for Sonny. My wonderful little boy means everything to me.”

  Hannah had to stop reading for a few seconds to swallow the lump in her throat. Charity loved her little boy, and Hannah had let him die alone.

  “Mattie Sheridan snubbed me today. Cal will be angry if he finds out. Her husband, Theodore Sheridan, is a powerful man. If they don’t want to socialize with us, Cal’s business could suffer. If his business suffers, he’ll blame me, as he always does. If those people knew what he was really like, they’d snub him.

  “The house plans were approved and the building permit issued, then the builder got sick. Cal refuses to wait for him to recover. He’s already looking for another builder. Will this house ever be built?

  “The weather finally cleared and they started digging the basement. Cal is off to Cleveland for a month. Peace at last, but he expects me to keep an eye on things while he’s gone. If something goes wrong, he’ll take it out on me when he gets back.

  “Rosemary Duncan is hosting a tea party this afternoon. I wish I didn’t have to go. I so hate these chattering gossip sessions. I should have bought a new dress, but I already have so many it seems an extravagance.

  “Sonny is growing so fast, he’ll need new shoes soon. If we were still on the farm, he could go barefoot this summer, but Cal won’t let him go barefoot in the city. He’s such a good boy, but he can’t please Cal. Nothing is ever good enough to please Cal.

  “That’s the last one I’ve read so far.”

  “Interesting,” said Perkins, “but it doesn’t tell us what we need to know. How many pages is that?”

  “Thirteen. I can’t read more than a page or two a day. You’re not going to take the books, are you?”

  Perkins shook his head. “If you’ll give me copies of your notes for the file, I see no reason to take the books as evidence. It would serve no purpose if no one else could read them.”

  Hannah breathed a big sigh of relief when the men left the room. Perkins seemed like a reasonable man, but if Cordelli knew, he might take the books just to spite Donovan. She needed to find a place to stash the books, someplace safe no one else knew about.

  She made a double batch of chocolate chip cookies. While they baked, she polished the paneling on the side of the staircase. The pretty design consisted of panels of various sizes, the smaller ones at the bottom of the steps and the larger ones toward the back. As she polished the smaller ones, the rag caught on something under the lip of the second step. It was a latch like the one that opened the hidden stairs.

  Glancing around, she realized no one was watching. The men were all upstairs or in the basement. She moved the latch and watched three panels open. Pushing on one panel closed them all.

  The smallest panel hid a little wooden box with an ornate broach and two beautiful rings. The second, bigger panel hid another diary, and the largest was a double panel with handles on the inside. There was nothing hidden inside. It looked more like a place for a person to hide.

  Hannah left the diary there and put the one she’d found in the dining room light fixture in there with it. She thought about putting the other two in there, but someone was coming downstairs. Closing the panels, she rubbed her fingerprints out of the lemon oil she’d just put on.

  Donovan galloped down the stairs and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning, polishing.” Hiding things.

  The timer on the stove dinged, and she escaped to the kitchen to take the cookies out of the oven. Saved by the bell.

  As soon as the other men left for the day, Hannah lit into Donovan. “Why did you tell Perkins about the diaries?”

  Donovan didn’t understand her reaction. “Hannah, they’re evidence in a homicide investigation.”

  “What if Cordelli finds out?”

  “Cordelli is too busy gloating to look at evidence. There’s a rumor going around that the captain is taking early retirement and Cordelli is going to take his job.”

  Hannah groaned, and Donovan continued. “We may have enough evidence to bring Cordelli down, but it could backfire and we’d all be out of work. Jeopardizing my own job is one thing, but I hate like hell to see good men fired.”

  Pop folded the newspaper. “If someone doesn’t take a stand, it’ll go on forever. Tony Porcini and his people have been running things in River Valley since I got my badge forty years ago. The guy’s past eighty, and he’s still running the show.”

  Hannah asked Pop, “How does Cordelli fit in?”

  “His mother was a Porcini, and the chief of police is a cousin.”

  Donovan plowed his hand through his hair. “I have enough time coming to get paid through the end of the year, but Maggie’s hospital bill will have to wait.” He’d have to save what he made between now and the end of the year to live on until he was sure he still had a job. Or until he found another one. If Cordelli took over the captain’s job, he’d find a way to push Donovan out the door.

  If the job went away, so be it, but he wouldn’t leave quietly. He’d drag Constantine Cordelli and Chief Vittore down with him.

  Chapter Eight

  Halloween was coming up in two days, and at dinner that night, Billy asked if he could go trick-or-treating.
r />   “I’m not so sure it’s safe, Billy,” said Pop.

  At the risk of sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, Hannah said, “Why don’t we have a Halloween party?”

  Donovan started to shake his head, and she said, “I love Halloween, and I never got to have a Halloween party when I was a kid.”

  “Me neither,” said Billy. “I never get to have any parties.”

  “Who would you invite?”

  Billy started listing his friends and Hannah held up her hand. “How many?”

  He counted on his fingers, and Pop chuckled.

  “We’ll need some crime scene tape,” said Hannah. “Donovan, do you have a uniform?”

  “Somewhere.” Donovan stabbed another piece of chicken.

  “Billy, it’s too late for invitations, so you’ll have to call everyone. Seven-thirty to nine Sunday evening. We’ll make our own costumes and decorate the house.”

  “Cool. Can I take my friends to the basement to see where that guy was buried?”

  “Only if someone goes down with you,” said Donovan. “And nobody will be allowed in that part of the basement. They’ll have to look from outside the crime scene tape.”

  Hannah smiled. Donovan was getting into the spirit now. She said, “We’ll outline where the body was and put candles there.”

  “Awesome!” Billy’s excitement made them all smile.

  “If you’re finished eating, go make a list of who you want to invite.”

  Billy ran to the library, and Pop said, “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Hannah.”

  “Yes, I do. I would have given anything to have a party when I was a kid, but we were always living in someone else’s house or in a motel. I was always the new kid in school, so I didn’t even get invited to parties.”

  Donovan said, “I hope the spirits behave themselves.”

  “It’s a kid’s party, Donovan. They won’t mind, will they?”

  Billy ran into the room and handed Hannah a list of names, ending their discussion.

  “Is this everyone in your class, Billy?”

  “All but a couple of silly girls.”

  “Oh, Billy, how would you feel if everyone in your class was invited to a party except you? Would it be so bad to invite them, too?”