Yuletide Peril

by Irene Brand

  “How about half past five?”

  Janice nodded her head. “That will give me time to take Brooke with me to the grocery store. I don’t know all of the food she likes, so it’s better for her to help shop.”

  It took less than ten minutes to walk from Henrietta’s house to the school and she had five minutes to wait. A dozen school buses were lined up ready for the students. Janice sat on a concrete bench until the bell rang. She was thinking about Lance, wondering when she’d see him again, when he walked out of a nearby door.

  “Oh, hello,” he said, with his usual friendly nature. “I should have called this morning to see if Brooke needed a ride to school. But the first day of school is always hectic, especially with the kindergarten kids who are scared of the big school.”

  “A mechanic replaced my tires last night, so I drove Brooke to school. And Henrietta Cunningham is letting us stay in her basement apartment until I can get Mountjoy ready to live in.”

  He nodded approvingly. “I saw Henrietta talking to you yesterday after church. You’re in good hands with her.”

  Lance was pleased about these living arrangements. If Henrietta took Janice under her wing, she’d see to it that Janice didn’t make any rash decisions. Lance knew it wasn’t wise to set himself up as her advisor.

  “And Mr. Santrock took me to the bank this morning and helped me take care of things there, too,” Janice continued. “I’ve never had to deal with any money, except a weekly paycheck before, but he was very patient with me. I moved into the apartment this morning and returned the U-Haul. We’re eating supper with Henrietta this evening. She didn’t have to twist my arm very hard to get me to agree.” Wryly, she admitted, “I guess everyone knows I need a lot of looking after. It’s humbling to admit I have to depend on others, but I’m thankful there are people willing to help me.”

  “Put Linda on the list of those who’ll help you settle in Stanton. She told me to invite you to attend our Sunday school class. You’ll get a lot of support there.”

  “Thank you. We’ll be there next Sunday.”

  “I’ll probably see you before then.” The closing bell rang, and he hurried away. “Take care,” he called over his shoulder.

  Brooke’s backpack was full when she came out of the building. Janice took the heavy pack and slung it over her shoulder as they walked away from the school.

  “Lots of homework, huh?”

  Brooke rolled her eyes and groaned. “Yeah! Mrs. Hayman is a hard teacher, but I like her.”

  “How you’d get along?”

  “All right, I guess, but some of the kids in my class don’t seem to like me.”

  That news distressed Janice, but she said lightly, “It’s probably because you’re new. Be nice to everyone, and when they know you better, they’ll be friendly.”

  “I hope so,” Brooke said, her eyes uncertain. Then she brightened. “But Taylor and three of her friends are planning a pajama party in a few weeks and they invited me. Can I go?”

  “Probably, but I won’t say yes until I learn more about it.”

  “Oh, look,” Brooke said, pointing. “There’s my dog!”

  Sure enough, the mongrel Brooke had fed a couple of times stood on the sidewalk ahead of them, head on his front feet, tail wagging, watching them. Janice had never seen a more pitiful dog. His ribs showed plainly and his black hair was filthy, probably because he’d been living on refuse from trash cans.

  “I had some cookies left from lunch,” Brooke said. She rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a package of cookies. The dog’s tail waved back and forth when Brooke approached him.

  “Careful,” Janice cautioned, although she didn’t think the dog was dangerous. Brooke took the cookies out of the wrapper and tossed them close to the dog. With two gulps, the cookies disappeared.

  “Poor doggie,” Brooke said, and her lips trembled.

  Poor me, Janice thought, for as they continued toward Henrietta’s house the dog followed them. She felt sorry for the animal, but she had too much on her plate right now to adopt a pet.

  The dog didn’t try to follow them into the house. He sat on the sidewalk and watched as they entered their apartment. But the dog obviously needed some care. Perhaps Henrietta would call animal control or the local animal shelter. But Janice doubted that she would be able to convince Brooke that calling animal control was the thing to do. When they went to the grocery store, Brooke insisted on buying some pet food.

  “The dog knows where we live now,” she said, “and we can put some food out for him.”

  “We can’t take the dog on Henrietta’s property.”

  “There’s an empty lot beside her house. No reason I can’t put some dog food on it, is there?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I’ll have to think up a name for him. I don’t like to keep calling him ‘dog.’”

  Janice still thought the animal should be taken to a shelter, but Henrietta agreed with Brooke.

  “I don’t want a dog digging up my flowers,” she said, “but an out-of-town man owns that vacant lot next door. He won’t mind if you scatter some food there.”

  While they ate the roast beef, baked potatoes, green beans and slaw that Henrietta had prepared, she asked, “What are your plans for tomorrow?

  “I’m going to Mountjoy and figure out what to do next.”

  Even without knowing the danger that seemed to lurk at Mountjoy, Henrietta immediately advised, “It ain’t wise for you to go by yourself, and I can’t walk through all that underbrush to go with you.”

  “I’ll admit I don’t want to go alone, but I wouldn’t be so skittish about it if there wasn’t so much undergrowth. The first thing is to have a path cleared from the highway to the house.”

  “I agree. The local earth-moving company usually has an ad in the Saturday newspaper. There’s a stack of papers on that table. Check through them, and you’ll find one of his ads. You can telephone in the morning. Or you can stop by his place of business. Once you get a road so you can drive to the house, I can go with you.”

  Henrietta stood with difficulty and said, “These sore knees are sure a bother to me, but I could be in worse shape.”

  The next day after she walked to school with Brooke, Janice made arrangements for a bulldozer to come to her property on Wednesday. Encouraged by this quick response, she visited several contractors that Henrietta had mentioned asking them to give an estimate on needed repairs at Mountjoy. She couldn’t believe that none of the three contractors would even give her a tentative date when she might expect their help.

  Disillusioned, she returned to the apartment, moped for a while, then tapped on Henrietta’s door.

  “Come in.”

  Henrietta was knitting an afghan. She smiled cheerily at Janice and put her knitting aside.

  “Sit down. I need to rest my eyes. What’s troubling you?”

  “I’ve been to three contractors and they’re all too busy to work for me.”

  “Nonsense,” Henrietta snorted. “They continually harp about their lack of business. They need the work, but they’re afraid to work on your property.”

  “Afraid! Because they think the house is haunted? Lance mentioned something about that.”

  “The story spread around after John’s death that Mountjoy was haunted and most people won’t go near the place. Hard to believe, in this day and age, that sensible people still believe in ghosts.”

  Henrietta struggled to her feet. “I’ll find a contractor for you, but we’ll have to go see him, for he doesn’t answer his phone regularly. Cecil Smith ain’t afraid of anything and he’s not superstitious.”

  Henrietta walked into her bedroom and came back with her purse and car keys. “He’s not the best carpenter I know, but he does work hard, and he won’t rob you. That’s more than I can say for the other contractors.”

  Janice insisted on driving, but Henrietta shook her head. “I drive better’n I give directions.”

  With a few jumps an
d starts, Henrietta soon had the car on the highway east of town. She was a slow driver, but her tendency to roam over the center highway lines kept Janice on the edge of the seat. She was relieved when they turned off the highway onto a narrow road.

  Cecil Smith lived five miles from Stanton in the most ramshackle place Janice had ever seen. Even the worst of the places where her parents had lived seemed like a mansion to Mr. Smith’s home. His appearance wasn’t much better.

  He wore a faded red T-shirt tucked into a pair of ragged coveralls that hung loosely on his tall, lanky body. But he seemed clean, and keen blue eyes glowed from under his bristling gray brows. Long, scraggy hair hung over his shoulders and white whiskers covered his face, so it was difficult to tell where his hair stopped and the whiskers began. Smith hoisted himself from a rocking chair on his porch and came to meet them.

  “Hiddee-do, Henrietta. What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve brought my young friend, Janice Reid, to see you.”

  “Reid, huh?” Cecil Smith said, peering at Janice with interest.

  “She’s John’s niece and inherited Mountjoy.”

  “Mr. Smith,” Janice said. “I need a contractor to look over the house and give me an estimate of how much it will cost to put it in living condition.”

  He squinted at her curiously. “You’re aimin’ to live there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve got a little job that’ll take me the rest of the day. I could meet you about six o’clock this evening, if that suits you.”

  “That suits me fine. A bulldozer will clear the road this week, so you could probably start to work in a few days. I want to move in as soon as possible, so I can stop imposing on Henrietta.”

  “Henrietta thrives on being imposed on, so don’t worry about that,” the contractor said. “I’ll do what I can do to help you, but from I’ve heard, that house ain’t worth fixin’ up.”

  “That may be true,” Janice agreed. “That’s what I want you to tell me. If it isn’t, I’ll make other arrangements.”

  As they drove back to town, Henrietta said, “There used to be some good pieces of furniture in that house.”

  “They’re still there. If I can salvage enough for four rooms, so Brooke and I can move in, I’ll store everything else and work on it as I can.”

  Was it stubbornness to insist on moving to Mountjoy when everyone seemed to think it was a bad idea?

  Chapter Seven

  Henrietta drove at a snail’s pace, pointing out the homes of her friends. Janice answered when necessary, but the clock on the dashboard indicated that school had already been dismissed.

  Finally, as discreetly as possible, she said, “Could we go a little faster? School is over for the day, and I’m worried about Brooke. I’ve told her not to walk home alone, but she might walk with a friend. If she comes home and neither one of us are there, she might be afraid.”

  “Sorry, honey,” Henrietta said. “I start talking and I forget the time.” She tromped on the gas pedal and the car shot forward so rapidly that, in spite of the seat belt, Janice thought her head might go through the windshield. “We’ll go to the house first.”

  When Brooke wasn’t at the apartment, Janice said, “I’ll walk over to school and probably meet her on the way.”

  But she didn’t meet Brooke, and she was uneasy. What if something had happened to her sister? Would whoever wanted Janice out of Stanton stoop to harming Brooke?

  When she turned the corner of the school, Lance and Brooke were sitting on a concrete bench chatting amicably. Brooke jumped up gave Janice a hug. “I thought you’d forgotten me.”

  Janice leaned over and kissed her sister’s forehead. “I’d never do that. Henrietta and I went out in the country and we were late getting back.”

  “Mr. Gordon waited with me. I could have walked home by myself but he wouldn’t let me.”

  Janice’s eyes met Lance’s blue ones and she murmured, “Thanks.” To Brooke, she said, “You can start walking alone later on, when you know the town and its people a little better.” Turning to Lance, she said, “I’m sorry if I delayed you.”

  “I never leave until all the students are gone, except for the ones involved in sports. It’s the coaches’ responsibility to see that they’re protected.”

  She took Brooke’s hand. “Let’s go.” To Lance, she said, “I’m meeting Cecil Smith at six o’clock. I couldn’t find any other contractor to even give me an estimate on the work at Mountjoy.” She rolled her eyes. “For reasons that you might guess.”

  He nodded understandingly. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go with you. Smith is reliable enough, but he might be held up and be late in keeping his appointment.”

  She looked directly at him, pleased, surprised and aggravated at the same time. “I don’t need a nursemaid,” she said.

  “Look at it this way—I wouldn’t want Linda to be alone on your property.”

  “I’ve imposed on you enough.”

  “You’re not imposing. You haven’t asked me to do anything for you. I’ll pick you up at Henrietta’s around quarter to six.”

  With a smile, Janice said, “Henrietta will be pleased. She’s fusses over Brooke and me like a mother hen with a dozen chicks. She insisted that I must get the driveway cleared and stoned right away so she can drive to the house.”

  “I’m glad she’s looking after you.”

  “Truth to tell—I rather like it. I’ve never had any coddling in my life.”

  In spite of Henrietta’s insistence that they eat with her, Janice prepared supper in the apartment. She’d bought a frozen lasagna at the grocery store, and while it baked, she made a salad. Deli cookies and ice cream would have to do for dessert. She wasn’t used to cooking for two yet. When she was ready to go to Mountjoy, she opened the door to the upstairs so Henrietta could monitor Brooke’s activities.

  Cecil Smith was already waiting for them when they arrived. Lance parked behind the contractor’s truck, which was as ramshackle as his house. The truck was piled high with lumber, tools, gadgets, buckets, chains, several ladders and a lot of other stuff that Janice couldn’t identify.

  “Cecil carries his office and workshop with him,” Lance said humorously. “Strange to say, he can find what he wants without any trouble.”

  Lance shook hands with Smith. “Glad to see you, Cecil. It’s good you can help Janice.”

  “I don’t know that I can help her, but I’ll take a look.”

  “Let’s take your ladder,” Lance said. “The ceilings are ten feet high, and you may need a long ladder to see everything.”

  Lance and Cecil carried the ladder and maneuvered their way through the brush and heavy tree foliage along the narrow path that Lance had cut on their previous visit. Janice carried two flashlights and a small case holding a conglomeration of tools.

  “Shame this property has gone to rack and ruin,” Smith said. “It used to be a showplace.”

  “I’d like to have it look like that again.”

  “Big job for a young woman like you.”

  “Maybe too big a job for me. Your assessment of the work that has to be done will determine my decision.”

  “We crawled in the window when we were here Saturday,” Lance said.

  “Did you look around for a key?” Cecil said. “It’s my experience that everybody leaves a key somewhere handy.”

  A tall, lanky man, Cecil was able to run his hand across the top of the door frame. With a self-satisfied look, he picked up a key and waved it at them. He pulled open the decrepit screen door and turned the key in the lock. The door was stuck, but when Lance put his shoulder against the door, it squeaked open.

  Cecil whistled while he sauntered around the first floor rooms. Janice recognized it as an off-key version of “She’ll be Coming Around the Mountain.” Lance and Janice followed for the most part in silence, although Lance occasionally asked a question or made a comment.

  “Let’s take a look at the second floor,” Cecil said.


  “Wonder if that key will work in the door to the stairway,” Lance said. “The door was locked when we were here a few days ago.”

  Cecil handed the key to Lance, but as they approached the door, they saw that it stood ajar. Lance glanced quickly at Janice. “I know that door was locked. So that means somebody has been here since we were.”

  Smith cackled with laughter. “What kind of somebody? The kind that walks on two feet or the kind that floats around in the air?”

  Janice supposed that was Cecil’s idea of a joke, but she didn’t find it amusing. Hesitantly Lance pushed open the door and muttered, “What do you make of that?”

  Cecil and Janice peered over his shoulder. “There ain’t any steps!” Cecil said. “Maybe the second story never was finished.”

  Lance ran his hands over the walls. “There have been steps here, but they’ve been sawed away. Strange! Let’s bring the ladder so we can see what’s upstairs.”

  They carried the ladder through the hall and propped it against the floor of the upper story.

  “Are you going up?” Lance asked Janice.

  “I’d like to.”

  Lance looked at Cecil, who tested the ladder by placing both feet on the bottom rung. “It oughta be safe enough.”

  “I’ll go first, Cecil, and you hold the ladder while Janice climbs. You come up last, if that’s all right.”

  “Right as rain,” Cecil said.

  The ladder stood at a forty-five-degree angle, so the climb wasn’t too difficult, but Janice welcomed Lance’s extended hand supporting her last two steps. When Cecil joined them, they started a tour of the four upstairs rooms that were separated by a wide hallway. One room was empty, but the others were fully furnished.

  “So there were steps at one time,” Janice said and Lance nodded. She wondered at the concerned look on his face. “But what could have happened to the furniture in this room?”

  “When Mr. Reid got sick,” Lance said, “they probably took the furniture from this room to make a bedroom downstairs. Henrietta can tell you, and she’ll probably clear up the mystery of the missing steps.”