Of course the family, the cars, the garage—they might all be gone by now. But I had to try. For Robin. “You said you wanted to live dangerously,” I pointed out.
“So I did,” Eve admitted. “Which makes us both crazy, but it makes neither of us brilliant.”
“This is wildly exciting. Admit it,” I prompted her.
“I’ll let you know after I throw up,” she grumbled.
“Hah! Glad we’re in your car.”
“What does this place look like?” she asked after a quiet few minutes.
I gave her the map. “I Googled it, got an aerial view. We’ll drive down the hill on the right, park behind the huge waterfront garage, depart via the hill on the left, and in between we’ll see what we can find.”
“Trouble. We’re gonna find trouble.”
“Day’s cars,” she said. “Didn’t you say he was gonna hide the stuff with Day’s cars? That’s nuts.”
Dante had told me that Day meant dad in that family, which helped. I just had to look in the garage. It sounded so easy. Too easy.
When we arrived, the house looked totally dark. So I turned off the car lights and coasted down the drive and around back behind the extra-wide quad garage.
It was nearly as big as my shop; probably a carriage house at one time as well.
Peeking in the window on the bottom level revealed some amazing vintage cars. “We’re in the right place. Go peek around the side to see if there are any lights in the house on this side,” I asked.
Eve did, while I fetched the key.
When she returned, I was standing in the open basement door at the bottom of a set of cement stairs. “It was open,” I said. “Any lights?”
“No. What is it, opera night?”
“Friday is buffet night at the country club. If we’re lucky, they go to a movie after.”
“Hey, whaddaya know?”
I knew nothing. “That the basement is pristine and the stairs to the garage are dark,” I whispered.
They squeaked and groaned something horrific.
“Heart attack stairs,” Eve said.
“Tell me about it.”
It took some hunting and walking around quite the collection of vintage cars to find a piece of pipe, because I believed that the young man was a follower. He’d wanted to hide it in a pipe, in this garage.
I prayed that he’d stuck to his plans despite the warning of his older friend to find a better hiding place than the garage.
In the work area—where no cars were parked, except a turquoise Corvette that seemed to need bodywork—tools reigned supreme. We found an extra-deep shelf—like maybe fifteen, twenty feet deep—built up near the ceiling, for items like lengths of wood, floorboards, shelving, two-by-fours, drainpipes, studs, drywall; that kind of thing. And in the midst of them, I saw the edge of the stored ladder.
“Fat lot of good that’ll do,” Eve whispered, eyeing the ladder.
I found a power lift, but no key. We were forced to build a tower out of crates, trunks, toolboxes, anything square and at least semi-sturdy, and we set them up in a way that they could be climbed, like stairs, to get to the shelf.
By the time I got to maybe the fourth step, and the drainpipe still looked as far up as the top of the Mystic Bridge open for shipping traffic, the whole stack wobbled, and I yipped.
“Down, Mad,” Eve ordered. “Right this minute.”
“But I have to get the—”
“I’m the tomboy, remember? I saved your ascot when you jumped ship, remember?”
“Well, that’s a matter of—”
“Get down, brat. You shine designing clothes. Me, I climb like a monkey.”
“You’d be dressing like one, too, if it weren’t for me.”
“I know. To thank me, can you get down, please?”
Climbing down was scarier than going up.
“You’re right,” I said, watching Eve. “You climb like a monkey.”
Making monkey noises, she kept going.
The piece of drainpipe I asked her to pull out measured about three feet. She aimed it toward me and looked through it like a telescope. “Bad news, Mad. I can see you. There’s nothing in it.”
I gave a hard, involuntary shiver and turned more hot than cold. “It’s got to be there.”
“Wait,” Eve said. “I see a small piece that I can almost reach. Oh, wait, I’ll knock it closer with this piece of molding.” As she did, she made a few banging noises.
“Eve, shush.”
“You shush. I’m doing the best I can.”
“They’ll hear us.”
“They’re at the country club. And we’re a mile from the mansion.”
I heard a pop, and a piece of drainpipe came flying from the shelf. It bounced twice off our tower, knocking two of the upper pieces off the pile. I jumped out of the way, but the drainpipe’s trajectory had been changed, and it bounced off the hood of the Corvette.
Two things happened at once.
An ear-splitting alarm went off, and Eve monkeyed her way deeper into the overhang. So much for running away.
I climbed up the toppling tower, grabbed Eve’s hand, and scraped my side as she pulled me into the overhang. She shoved our tower with a two-by-four so the pieces scattered to the far side of the repair shop.
The two of us scrambled as deep into the overhang as we could go, and huddled silent as mice, me praying that it would hold our weight.
The garage lit up like a Christmas tree.
Fourteen
Why not be one’s self? That is the whole secret of a successful appearance. If one is a greyhound, why try to look like a Pekingese?
—EDITH SITWELL, 1887–1964
For the longest time, the only sound I could hear was my own heart beating in my head. My gut ached from tension and my eyes were screwed so tightly shut, I gave myself a headache.
When I unclenched, my eyes opened. Nothing had actually happened. We’d tripped something, but with nobody at the house, who knew?
With the light on, I looked around and found, right next to me, the oddest thing. A piece of drainpipe, about a foot long, but capped at each end. I shook it a bit and something inside slid. When I went to put it in my purse, I realized I’d left that on the floor.
I was shaken by the adventure and stupidly worried that somebody would take my Coach tote.
Eve grabbed my hand and pointed. Car lights moved down the hill toward us.
Eve scrambled forward, sat at the edge, jumped from there, and landed on the roof of the Corvette.
I followed her. This was going to cost us.
Eve went for the door. “Let’s get your freaky ass out of here.”
I didn’t take the time to check the capped pipe. I stuffed it into my bag, and we went out the door closest to our car. The building alarm went off as we got in the car and I peeled out from behind the garage.
People stepped from a Beemer as we passed.
“They saw us!” Eve whispered. “Drive faster,” she said. “One of them was nine-one-oneing on a cell phone.”
“The cops?” I asked.
“How the hell do I know who they’d call when their million-dollar car collection gets invaded, unless they stole the cars.”
I slowed down to take a left onto the highway.
Eve gasped. “South on 95? Are you nuts? Back roads, you twit,” she ordered.
That made sense, except that I then took a road I didn’t know.
“I can’t go as fast on a back road,” I pointed out as I slowed down.
“That’s okay, we’ll be harder to find if the police come after us.”
“If? Look behind us,” I suggested. “Is it my imagination, or do the spaces between the trees in the woods behind us look kind of red and blue?”
Eve squeaked. “Drive faster.”
I took a quick left, and we found ourselves in an upper-class development of Victorian houses. “There must have been a black-and-white in the vicinity to get here so fast,” I said.<
br />
“Ya think? Duh. The flash between the trees is keeping up,” she said.
That’s when I realized I’d driven into a circle. The garage attached to the house at the center was open and empty. I turned off my lights, headed for that driveway, and into the garage.
Eve began hyperventilating. “What are you doing, Looney Tune?”
“Hiding in plain sight?”
“That’s what you think.”
“Shut up,” I said.
“Shut up and duck,” Eve amended. “Werner wouldn’t approve of what we did tonight. Nick either,” she added.
“They’re probably the only ones who would understand, though,” I said beneath my breath, our heads near the gearshift.
I peeked behind us. Scrap, scrap, scrap. A police car, not the state police, but a local Rhode Island cop, drove into the circle.
I held my breath again. Funny how I always closed my eyes when I did that.
“Oh my gosh, they’re leaving,” Eve said. “We can go now.”
I put the car in gear…and slammed on the brakes.
The garage lights came on and we got spot-lit from behind.
“Is it the cop?” Eve asked.
“You wish,” I said.
Whoever it was blocked our exit, got out of the car, and came toward the driver’s side. My side.
“Act drunk,” I whispered, before I rolled down my window.
An older woman bent down to look in at us. A nurse, probably home from the late shift at a hospital. “And you’re sitting in my garage because…?”
“Mom?” I asked, pretending to be muddled, yes, but actually calling for help from my mom.
“Are you drunk?” the nurse asked.
“Tired maybe,” I said. “I’m the designated driver.”
“Honest, Mrs.…Mom,” Eve said. You should be lelling at me. Yelling. That’s the word.”
“I am not your mother, young lady, for which I give thanks.”
Wow, I thought, the light must be really bad in here, if she thinks we’re young ladies.
“But the house is the right color,” I said. “Last one in the circle, driveway on a hill.” I turned to Eve. “Did we take a wrong turn?”
“Get out of the car,” the nurse said, closing her long, heavy gray sweater coat. “Where do you live?”
“Mystick Falls,” I said, turning off the car and sliding from my seat.
“Are you gonna keep us for ransom?” Eve asked, as she fake tripped getting out.
“I’m taking you home. Which set of parents gets you both, or are you sisters?”
“Friends,” I said. “But what about my car?”
“Best ever friends,” Eve added, playing her role well.
“You can come back for your car tomorrow afternoon.”
“But where are we?”
“I’ll write down my address after I hand you over to your parents.” Our captor indicated that I should get in her front passenger seat and she put Eve in the back. She even buckled Eve’s seatbelt.
“Why don’t you just let us go?” I asked before we left. “I mean, if you’re this kind?”
“Because one or both of you have been drinking, and I’m a nurse. I know what can go wrong. I’ve seen it too many times to have the possibility on my conscience.”
“You’re a good person.”
“When I hand you to your family you won’t think so. Who am I taking you to?”
“My brother,” I said, and I gave her Werner’s address.
Eve yipped.
The nurse looked in the rearview mirror. “Hiccups. Typical. Just don’t get carsick. I just had this detailed.”
When she left the circle, she had to wait to take a right until a police car went by, and Eve hiccupped again.
“See that policeman?” the woman said. “He could have stopped you and been hauling your drunk behinds to the police station right now. You lucked out driving into my garage.”
“You don’t even know us,” I said.
“It occurred to me that you could have been planning to rob my house, but I’m a pretty good judge of character. I see no harm in you. I think your friend’s a bit of a loose cannon, but you have the air of a helper about you.”
“Like Santa’s helper?” I asked, and Eve giggled.
“Someone who helps people, like nurses do. I’m guessing you try to help and sometimes you get into trouble for it.”
First, I wanted to hug her. It was like I had gotten my mom after all. Then I wanted to tell her that maybe we were both psychic, but she hadn’t caught that we were in trouble or that Eve was faking. On the other hand, maybe she did know.
“I’m Addy,” she said. “You?”
There were witnesses who’d seen us leave Bradenton Cove. “I’m Mad-eline, and that’s my friend Ev-e-lyn. You can call us Mad and Eve. Eve’s a genius, by the way. She just has a weird sense of style.”
“It takes all kinds.”
“I’d like to thank you for being the kind to rescue a coupl’a girls who took a wrong turn and ended up invading your home.”
“You’ll pay it forward, I think.”
“Count on it.”
All too soon, we were pulling up in front of Werner’s…at nearly three in the morning. I sure hoped he’d play at being my brother.
Addy, our rescuer, leaned on the doorbell nonstop.
A grouchy Werner whipped open the door, looking ready to bark or aim a gun at us, cantankerous but yummy in a navy brocade robe with tousled hair and big bare feet.
“Mad, what the heck?”
I threw my arms around him. “You’re such an understanding brother. Try now, pleeeze.”
Fifteen
One wants to be very something, very great, very heroic; or if not that, then at least very stylish and very fashionable.
—HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
I stepped back. “Addy, this is my brother, Lytton. Bro, this is Addy. We sort of got lost and drove into her garage by mistake.”
Yeah, he’d buy that.
Addy’s head came up, and she leaned back to look at the house, then toward Lytton’s driveway. “You know, this house looks nothing like mine. It’s not even in a cul de sac.”
“No, but our mother’s is,” I said, and when Werner opened his mouth, I sort of stepped on his bare little toe, easy like.
Werner rocked on his heels, mostly to get away from my brutality, and he gave the woman a half nod. I was so in for it with him.
Addy poked the top of my arm. “This one drove into my garage by mistake—drunk, the both of them. That one,” she said, aiming her thumb toward Eve behind her, “so much the worse for it.” Addy was a tall woman, broad shouldered and strong, with a kind face and a big, caring heart.
“With the drink, I couldn’t let them drive. You can bring one of them back to my house tomorrow between noon and three, if that’s all right? Is that your car in the drive?” She nodded toward the police car.
“My car’s in the shop,” Werner said, “so I borrowed a squad car for the weekend.”
“He runs the place,” I told her.
“Well, then I’m leaving you in good hands. Don’t let these two drink and drive again, if you please. I don’t want the next time I meet them to be in Lawrence Memorial Hospital.”
Eve hiccupped for good measure.
Werner put his hand on my shoulder. Hard. “Sure thing,” he said. “Mad will reimburse you for your gas when she picks up her car tomorrow, right, sis?” he asked, his fingers digging into my shoulder.
I ducked from beneath his grasp. “Of course, bro.”
We stood in the doorway and waved Addy off. I was thinking of something nice from my shop that I could bring her, along with the gas reimbursement. “Thanks for the rescue,” I called, before she got into her Honda Insight, then we watched her drive away.
Werner shut his door. “Okay, give.”
Of course, Werner couldn’t know about our personal scavenger hunt for petticoat pieces to read for clues
and how I’d known where to find them, so I prevaricated a wee bit. “I got a phone call at the shop. A tip from an anonymous source, maybe somebody who saw Isaac find the box and knew what it was. I don’t know. But he”—meaning Dante—“told me where to find the key to the garage and that I’d find some of the scavenger hunt ‘loot’ in an old piece of drainpipe.”
And from that fabricated beginning, Eve and I took turns telling Werner the truth, every detail, from then on.
“Breaking and entering, Madeira?”
“With a key someone gave me the location of.”
He grumped. “So, what did you find?”
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t look in the drainpipe.” I opened my bag and took out the double-capped, foot-long piece, but I couldn’t pry off either cap.
“I’ll get it,” Werner said, taking it into his garage.
Eve and I curled up on separate ends of Werner’s sofa to wait.
He had to wake us when he came back with an open piece of drainpipe.
“What’s in it?” I asked
“Like with the cash box, I waited to open it with you.” He set a newspaper on the coffee table. “I’ll shake it out gently, shall I? And we can’t touch, because we’re not wearing gloves.”
First item to slide out: a plastic toy soldier.
“Son of a stitch, he didn’t hide it in a drainpipe after all. He was slow. A boy in a man’s body.”
Werner’s brows furrowed. “What did you say?”
“A boy in a man’s body. He was gonna hide his treasure in a drainpipe with his father’s vintage cars.”
“You met him?”
“No, he was…talkative.”
“Like a man who acted like a boy? Tells too much?”
“You got it.” Scrap, I needed to learn to shut up and sort out my visions from my reality…and from my lies. Lies for the greater good, I told myself. Funny how I couldn’t buy that one.
“Maybe this is his idea of a treasure,” Werner said. “Just not what you were sleuthing for.”
“I’m bummed.” I huffed.
“You’re not gonna hit it every time, but we’re not done.” Werner shook the drainpipe again. Another soldier fell out, as well as some kind of antique decoder ring that hadn’t been listed on the scavenger-hunt list.
Tulle Death Do Us Part Page 9
