The House on Main Street

by Shirlee McCoy

  “What show is that?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Just making small talk, Zim,” Cade responded. “Mind if I come in?”

  “I told you—”

  “You’re watching your show. Yeah, I know, but I have a couple of questions I need to ask you, and it’s cold out here.”

  “Fine.” Zim stepped aside, allowing Cade to enter the small foyer.

  That was as far as they went, but Cade could see into the living room from there. A large-screen television hung on the wall, tuned to some show about real housewives.

  “You said you had questions?” Zim prodded.

  “Were you in Gertrude’s place Sunday afternoon?”

  “That’s an idiotic question,” Zim growled. “She was in the hospital, so why would I be there?”

  “I don’t know, but I have it on good authority that you were.”

  “What authority? That sniveling Gertrude woman? The one who accused me of pushing her down the steps even though half the town clearly saw her fall without any help from me?”

  “Someone saw you leave the house, Zim,” Cade revealed.

  Zim blanched. “Let me tell you something, Sheriff. That place is a junk pit. I wouldn’t set foot in there for a million dollars. Not to mention the fact that the woman who lives there is a pain in the butt.”

  “You’re sidestepping my question, Zim. Which makes me think that you actually were in the Riley place. Seeing as how I have a witness, you may as well just admit it.”

  “I’m not sidestepping anything. I’m stating the facts. Pure and simple. Gertrude McKenzie is a witch. An ogre. She’s the nastiest piece of garbage in the entire junk-pit of a house.”

  “Is that why you were in her house? Because you despise her?”

  “It’s not her house. It belongs to that niece of hers. That Tessa girl. Now, she is hardworking and polite.” Zim nodded in agreement with himself, the way he always did when he had an opinion.

  “Someone saw you coming out of the Riley place, Zim,” Cade said again.

  “Who? Because whoever told you that is lying!” Zim’s face went from pale to purple.

  “I don’t think so. This person knows you well and is a trustworthy witness.”

  “And I’m not? You’ve known me your whole life, Sheriff. Since when have I ever gotten into trouble? Since when have I ever been underhanded or untrustworthy?”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Cade stared Zim down.

  “Not with me. I’m not into breaking the law. Never have been. Never will be. As a matter of fact, I say my record stands for itself. I say that if I stood before a jury of my peers—”

  “Zim.” Cade cut him off. “I don’t want to keep arguing about this, so I’m just going to cut to the chase. Since you’ve said you don’t make a habit of going into This-N-That, I shouldn’t find any of your fingerprints there when I go dust for them.”

  Zim looked away.

  “Come on, Zim. Make this easy for both of us. We both know you were in there. Why?”

  “You want to know the truth?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Cade said, trying for patience.

  “I did go in there Sunday.” Zim smoothed his hair, his eyes shadowed. “Not to cause any trouble. I . . . just felt bad about what happened to Gertrude. I can’t stand the old biddy, but I don’t wish her ill.”

  That Cade could believe. As grumpy and belligerent as Zim was, when push came to shove, he had a good heart. “If you weren’t there to cause trouble, what were you there for?”

  “Well . . . I . . . I thought I could help do some of the work around the place. Make things look a little better for when Gertrude got back, but it was too big a job for one person, so I left.”

  It could have been true, but Zim’s hesitation said different.

  “Until I hear that something is missing or that damage has been done to the place, I’m going to have to take your word for it. But stay out of the Riley house from now on. The antique store—”

  “Antique. Ha! You mean trash dump.”

  “Stay away until Tess reopens the store. After that, you can shop there all you want, as long as you don’t cause the family any trouble. They’ve had enough of that to last awhile.”

  He said good night, ending the conversation because continuing it wouldn’t do any good, and because a glimmer of an idea was forming in his mind and he wanted to think on it a little more.

  Up until a week ago, there hadn’t been a theft in town for over a year. Then the angel was taken out from under the noses of half the population of Apple Valley. Now, Zim Beck, a man who couldn’t stand his neighbors, was claiming he’d wanted to help them.

  Maybe Zim wasn’t quite the upright citizen he pretended to be. An interesting idea, seeing as how he was on the town council, volunteered at the local food bank, and had never even gotten a parking ticket in the time Cade had been working for the sheriff’s department.

  Interesting, and an idea worth pursuing, Cade thought as he drove down Main Street and headed home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “It’s probably been fifty years since anyone has been in there, Tess. Are you sure you want to do this?” Gertrude asked, her scrawny behind perched on a beautiful chaise lounge Tessa had dragged from the shed.

  “It’s an attic, Gertrude. Not a tomb. Stop acting so scared,” she chided, wondering if Gertrude would take offense if she was asked to move from the chaise to a chair.

  Probably, but Tess still wanted to do it. Dating from the early 1900s, the piece had beautiful lines and a stately presence that would be perfect in a project James was working on. Tess had already stripped the wood and restained it. All she had to do was reupholster the cushions and polish it up. James had seen photos and approved the price; all Tess had to do was finish the restoration and ship it to Annapolis.

  One thing at a time. She mentally rehearsed her new mantra.

  With her to-do list growing longer every day, she had no choice but to follow through on the idea.

  Right now, the one thing she had to do was find something to wear to the costume party, which was less than twenty-four hours away.

  Nothing like putting things off until the last minute.

  “Not a tomb? I bet there are hundreds of bodies in there. Mice. Rats. Spider carcasses. Not to mention all the critters that are still alive and kicking,” Gertrude intoned, lifting her casted leg and setting it on the chaise.

  Tess winced and turned her attention back to the door that stood at the end of the upstairs hallway. It was locked, and she tried the first of several dozen keys that she’d found in one of Emily’s drawers. “It’s too cold for critters, Gertrude.”

  “Humph. What do you know? There are probably thousands of creepy crawlies up in that attic. Right, Alex?”

  “No,” Alex answered emphatically, patting his thighs, his legs swinging beneath the high-backed chair he was perched on.

  “What to do you know, anyway?” Gertrude griped.

  Tess smiled, enjoying the exchange and the sense of routine that they were building together. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, things had been changing, the three of them becoming what Tess could only think of as a real family.

  The first key didn’t fit in the old pine door’s lock. Neither did the second. She hit pay dirt with the third, the old skeleton key sliding in and the lock turning.

  The door creaked open, revealing a narrow stairway that led to the attic.

  “Tess, I’m really not sure you should go up there,” Gertrude fretted, her nervousness making Tess suddenly nervous.

  “What are you so worried about, Gertrude?” she asked.

  “Whatever is up there!” She pointed toward the ceiling. “You know how these things always work. The woman goes up into the attic alone or down into the basement alone. Next thing she knows . . .” Gertrude slid her finger across her throat. “The end.”

  “We’re not living in a horror movie.”

  “No, but
. . .” Gertrude glanced at Alex and pressed her lips together.

  “What? Spit it out, will you? I have a million things on my to-do list, and I don’t have time to try to guess what’s going on in your head.”

  “This is all because of the A-N-G-E-L,” Gertrude whispered, and Alex’s head popped up.

  “My angel?” he asked.

  “When did you learn how to spell that?” Gertrude snapped.

  “First grade.” He kicked at the wood floor, his bare feet small and pale. Go put socks on, Tessa almost said, but he seemed content, and she was happy just to have him sitting there trying to be part of what she was doing.

  “Damn the school system for being so efficient, then,” Gertrude muttered.

  “Gertrude, in about three seconds I’m going up in the attic. So, either say what’s on your mind or don’t.”

  “We’re cursed,” Gertrude announced, plucking a cigarette from her shirt pocket.

  Tess couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” Gertrude tapped the cigarette against her thigh but didn’t light up. She’d been trying hard to quit smoking. She’d slipped up a few times but had only smoked outside.

  Maybe that was why she was talking about curses. She was going crazy from nicotine withdrawal.

  “Explain. Quickly.” Tess glanced at her watch. Time was ticking, and she wanted to finish reupholstering the chaise lounge before morning. Then she could crate the piece and send it. The sooner she did, the sooner she could start getting some cash flow. The store would be open Monday, but she needed more than a few Christmas sales to keep Emily and Dave’s creditors away.

  One thing at a time.

  “That angel was never supposed to leave this house. Not as long as a Riley was in it.” The words seemed to burst out of Gertrude, jumbled together and barely intelligible. “I didn’t know it. If I had, I never would have handed it over to Ida. Now it’s lost, and we’re all doomed.”

  “Doomed? That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

  “My leg is broke, isn’t it? And Alex nearly died out in that snowstorm.”

  “He wasn’t even close to dying, and you broke your leg falling down icy stairs. It could have happened to anyone.” Tess sighed. Gertrude really had gone off the deep end.

  “Mock all you want, but we’re cursed. Cursed!”

  “I don’t suppose you want to tell me where you got that idea?”

  “This.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Ida asked me to read it during the tea, but we never got around to it. Miriam’s great-great-grandniece remembered hearing stories about the angel when she was a kid, and she told Ida all about it.”

  Curious, Tessa unfolded the page, smoothing the creases and wrinkles. It looked like Gertrude had folded and unfolded it more than a few times. Apparently, she’d been reading the paragraph over and over again since the tea.

  Miriam’s Angel

  As Told to the Green Bluff Historical Society by Her Great-Great-Grandniece, Alta Riley Morrow

  She crafted the angel with her own hands, smoothing it out of clay and firing it in the kiln Daniel had built for her. It pulsed with the life she was losing, and some say she meant her spirit to be captured in it. She knew she was dying, you see, and she worried for her husband and son. She painted her heart into that angel. Every stroke of her brush was a prayer that her family would be prosperous and well. On Christmas Eve, she pulled her frail body from her sick bed and wrapped the finished angel in shiny silver paper. She died with it in her hands, her last gift to Daniel and their son. The angel was meant to be a constant reminder of her love for them, but Daniel couldn’t bear to look at it. He put it in Miriam’s china cupboard and left it there to gather dust. Still, it had the power of love in it. Legend has it that as long as the angel remains in the house, the Rileys who live there will be safe and happy. It’s the way that Miriam meant things, and it’s the way it will always be. But that isn’t all there is to the angel. See, my grandma said that if a person looked long enough, she might see the angel unfurl its folded wings. Me? I never did, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Miracles are all around us if we take the time to look for them.

  The hair on the back of Tess’s neck rose as she read. The story had the kind of power most oral tradition did. It rang of truth and of myth, and Tessa could almost see the porcelain angel in the frail hands of its maker.

  “See?” Gertrude broke into her thoughts. “We’re doomed because of what I did. From now until that angel is returned, there will never be a bit of happiness in this house.”

  “That’s bull, Gertrude,” Tess said sharply, because she didn’t want Alex to think there was any truth to what Gertrude was saying. “There’s not one word about a curse here.”

  “Read between the lines, girl. If the angel is here, we’re going to be happy. That means if it isn’t, then we won’t be.”

  “Seriously, Gertrude.” Tess thrust the paper into her aunt’s hands. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going to look for something to wear to the party. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “You hold on there, girly! I’m telling you, there’s a curse, and it’s all my fault. I’m telling you—”

  Tess walked into the attic and closed the door on her aunt’s tirade.

  Enough was enough!

  She did not have the patience for this kind of crap. She walked up the dusty stairs, searching the gloom for a light switch. A chain hung from a lone bulb, and she tugged it, surprised when it actually turned on.

  Unlike the rest of the house, the attic hadn’t been filled with Emily and Dave’s stuff. Maybe they’d just never gotten around to it. Several dozen ancient trunks lay on the floor, all of them coated with thick layers of dust. A few boxes were piled near a small window. A child’s rocking chair sat abandoned near a beautiful dollhouse, and a battered rocking horse stood beside it. They were toys that a child would have played with at the turn of the last century, and Tessa shivered with excitement as she touched one item after another.

  She wouldn’t sell any of the items. They belonged to Alex, but they deserved to be displayed and enjoyed rather than hidden away.

  She ran her hand over a Victorian couch, its cushions almost pristine, the velvety fabric still bright peacock blue. A chair sat behind it. Tall backed and austere. An older piece, it dated from a time before the house existed. There was more. Way more than she could take in. She’d have to go through everything, catalog it, decide which pieces should stay in the attic, which could be used in the house, and which, if any, could be sold.

  Her fingers itched to go through every trunk and every box. She could have spent hours discovering what was in each one, but she didn’t have hours, so she went to the closest trunk and opened the lid. There were several patchwork quilts, a few old books, and a rag doll. She left them in the trunk. They were salable, but she’d have to look at them more closely later.

  The second trunk contained a black flapper dress with crystal fringe, an old pair of Levi’s that was probably worth a pretty penny, and three 1950s dresses that she wouldn’t have minded trying on. She lifted one out, a pale blue swing skirt and fitted bodice. The crinoline beneath was intact and nearly spotless.

  She held it up to herself. A perfect length, but not quite what she wanted for the party. She set it aside. Opened another trunk. A wedding dress lay on top, folded neatly, its ivory lace soft with age.

  “Gorgeous,” she murmured, pulling it out and letting it unfold. Silk-covered buttons ran from the high neck to the base of the spine. The long sleeves were fine, unlined lace. There was even a train, narrow in the style of the day.

  The door opened and the stairs creaked, and she thought that Gertrude must have decided to brave the curse just so that she could harass Tess with more tales of their apparent woe.

  “Take a look at this,” she said, swinging toward the stairs.

  Not Gertrude.


  Cade. Standing there in all his glorious masculinity, eyeing the dress and her.

  “Beautiful,” he agreed.

  Her pulse jumped, her cheeks heated, but she didn’t look away from his searching gaze. “Isn’t it? I wonder if this is Miriam’s dress. I’ll have to see if I can find a wedding photo.”

  He nodded, but she didn’t think he’d heard a word she said. His gaze drifted from her eyes, to her lips, to the hollow of her throat, and her mouth went dry, her heart skipping and stuttering.

  “I wasn’t talking about the dress, Tess,” he said, taking it from her hands and carefully setting it back in the trunk.

  “No?”

  “No,” he murmured, his hands cupping her face, his palms cool. “I’ve missed you the last few days.”

  “I—” Missed you, too? That sounded too needy. Too much like she’d been twiddling her thumbs hoping and praying he’d come for a visit. She hadn’t been, but she had been wondering when she’d see him again. “Wasn’t expecting you today.”

  He smiled, flashing the dimple that always made her heart jump. “I would have called first, but things have been hectic, and I didn’t get a chance.”

  “Hectic? Has there been a crime wave in Apple Valley?” she asked. “If so, I’m surprised the phone hasn’t been ringing off the hook all day with news of it.”

  “No crime wave. Just preparation for the party. I had to corral a dozen wily teenage boys to get them to help with the setup.”

  “I’d have liked to see that.”

  “I doubt they would have gotten anything done if you’d been around. A beautiful woman has a way of messing with the heads of impressionable young men.”

  “Stop calling me beautiful, Cade. It might go to my head.” She lifted the wedding dress out of the trunk, giving her hands something to do so that they wouldn’t reach for Cade.

  “I call it like I see it, but let’s not argue the point. We have more important things to discuss.” The serious edge to his voice made her look up from the trunk into his dark blue eyes. They were solemn. Worried even.