Old Murders Never Die

by Marja McGraw

  Moving as fast as I could, under the circumstances, I continued to make my way toward the door.

  “Amazing,” I heard him say.

  Chapter Two

  Stepping through the door, I noticed Pete had brushed away cobwebs before he entered the house. Glancing around, I thought of my own home. I’d bought the house which had originally belonged to my great-great-great-grandmother and had found the attic filled not only with her belongings, but those of other past owners. This house looked like the owner had simply stood up and walked away, leaving everything in place.

  I stood quietly and took in my surroundings. The main room served as both a kitchen and living room, with the kitchen located at the rear of the house. I wondered if they called them living rooms in the olden days. There was a couch, of sorts, sitting in the middle of the room, facing a fireplace. It would have been a formal piece, but now it was basically a frame with small swatches of fabric attached. I could see a few pieces of straw, probably used for stuffing, lying on the floor. Had animals gotten to it? Or had time done so much damage? The fireplace actually looked in relatively good condition. There was a broken picture frame lying on the floor in front of it, but nothing remained to tell me what had hung on the wall.

  An old wooden desk was placed against the wall with a chair lying on its side in front of it. A dried out inkwell sat at the rear of the desk along with what looked like a horse someone had whittled. The one drawer was stuck and I couldn’t open it. I turned back to the rest of the room.

  A rocking chair was nestled in the corner. The back and seat were covered in leather, which was tattered, but still basically in one piece. There wasn’t a lot of furniture.

  Feeling like I’d stepped back in time, I looked up at Pete. I needed the familiarity of his appearance to bring me back to the present. At five feet eleven inches, he stood several inches taller than me. His almost black hair looked dusty, making his gray temples appear even grayer. His deep brown eyes were watching me, maybe waiting to see what my reaction to the house would be. Pete’s name may be Goldberg, but he’s Italian. Long story, better left for another time.

  He glanced down at me and smiled before running his fingers through my longish dark brown hair. “You might want to put your hair up before you explore this place. It’s dirty in here. You don’t want spider webs in your hair.”

  “I’d have to go back to the car to find something to put it up with. I’ll be fine for now.” I moved past him and headed for the kitchen.

  There was a fairly sturdy old table with a tin plate sitting on it and the silverware still rested next to it. Two chairs were pushed back from the table. There was something on the plate, but I couldn’t tell what it was. It could have been anything from dried out food to a dead mouse. I didn’t want to examine it. An old lantern sat in the middle of the table.

  An antique cast iron cook stove stood defiantly against one wall. It seemed to say, I was well-made and no one’s getting rid of me. Although covered in dirt and grime, it somehow had an almost stately appearance. A cast iron skillet and Dutch oven sat at opposite ends of the stove. I walked over to it and placed my hand on top. It was cold. What had I expected? An old coffee pot was lying on the floor and it had rusted-out holes in it.

  There was a tall cabinet, containing a few old dishes and cooking utensils. Some of the dishes were broken, but most looked usable, although they were covered with a hundred years of grime and a few mouse droppings.

  A metal tub sat in what appeared to be a sink, probably where the dishes were washed. It was intact, not rusted out like the coffee pot. I wondered where they got their water. From the creek? I’d have thought there’d be a pump handle or something. There was a hole in the edge of the sink, so maybe at one time there had been something there.

  “Have we stepped into a time warp?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t joking when I said I thought we might have discovered a ghost town. I don’t think things would be as well-preserved as they are if anyone had been here since the people left.” He picked something up off the floor and set it inside the tub.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was the pump handle. They may have been pioneers, but they had a few amenities. No hiking down to the creek and carrying a heavy, sloshing water-filled bucket back to the house.

  The floor creaked as Bubba made his way over to us. Looking down, I saw that his nose was covered with dirt. He must have stopped to dig a little before following us into the house. I brushed off his nose and wiped my hand on my jeans.

  “There’s another room in the front of the house,” Pete said. “Let’s see if it’s the bedroom.”

  The door to the room was closed, and he had to shoulder it to get it to open, almost falling when it gave way.

  “I love a man who knows how to enter a room gracefully,” I said, walking past him.

  “I think I may have broken my shoulder.” Of course, he was joking.

  I slowly turned in a circle, taking in what I saw. A bed frame, minus any kind of mattress. There was a nice headboard, in decent condition. A wardrobe sat against one wall and there was a chest of drawers against the other wall. A cracked water basin sat on one end of the dresser, and a very old hand mirror rested in the middle. I picked it up and turned it over. It was also cracked and the image that looked back at me appeared milky.

  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the wardrobe.

  “It’s what people used for a closet. It’s just not built into the wall. After nineteen hundred, someone built what was called a chiffarobe. It combined a piece like this with drawers, all in one piece. So that tells me this is from before nineteen hundred.”

  “Kind of small,” he said, pulling on the door to open it.

  “People didn’t have huge wardrobes like we do now. A small space sufficed to keep everything hung up. Maybe people who lived in big towns had more, but way out here in the boonies? These women were probably lucky if they had three dresses. Some probably just had a couple of skirts and blouses.”

  “Did you read that somewhere?”

  “No. Common sense tells me they didn’t have extras out here.”

  He managed to open the door and I saw clothing hanging from a rod inside. He moved back quickly after seeing the look in my eyes. He knew I wanted to investigate.

  “Why do you care about all of this old junk?” Before I could reply, he added, “Oh, yeah. I remember what you said when we found all those things that belonged to your grandmother. You said it’s not junk to you. These things are antiques and speak of history. Right?”

  “Right. You don’t agree?”

  “I agree. I’m just giving you a hard time. I’ve actually acquired a taste for some antiques, thanks to you.”

  “Look at this. These dresses aren’t in shreds. I can’t believe it. This wardrobe must have protected everything.” I pulled out what might have been a Sunday-go-to-meeting dress. It appeared to be the nicer of the two that hung in the wardrobe. “Look how tiny this is.”

  “And I thought you were small,” he said, taking the dress from me and shaking his head.

  It did, indeed, look like the owner was probably much smaller than me. But women are generally bigger now than they were a hundred years ago.

  “How old do you think this house is?” I asked.

  “You tell me. Maybe we can guess by the style of the clothing.” He handed the dress back to me.

  “If I had to guess, and I’m probably wrong, I would say this dress is at least…” I looked at it again. “Maybe a little over a hundred years old? I’m not really sure. Is there anything else in there?”

  “Something is folded up and sitting in the bottom.” He handed me what turned out to be a skirt and blouse, and he began poking around in the wardrobe, knocking on the sides and bottom. The bottom sounded hollow, but then it would be. “Maybe they kept their shoes in the bottom of these things.”

  “You never know.”

  He knocked again. “This doesn’t sound right. It’
s not like just open space underneath.” He stood up and rocked the wardrobe on its edge. “Take a look underneath.”

  I did. “It’s enclosed, not open. Maybe that helped preserve these dresses.”

  He set the wardrobe down so it was straight again and began poking around the floor of the piece. I knew he’d found something when he smiled. Before he could show me, Bubba wandered into the room and stuck his big head inside the wardrobe.

  I pulled him away. “You get your wet tongue out of there before you ruin the other dress.” He sneezed. “See? You got a snoot full of dust, didn’t you?”

  Bubba tried to pull away from me, but he didn’t try very hard. He could have pulled me over in a heartbeat, but he knew who fed him dinner at night. He was going to behave like the good dog he was. Besides, he knew I always kept a few treats in my pocket when he was with me. I handed him one now. He took his milk bone and headed back to the other room.

  “Good boy,” I called after him.

  “Sandi, I think the floor of this thing comes up, but the wood must have swollen over time. It’s stuck, just like the doors were. Oh well…”

  “I’m kind of curious,” I said. “Isn’t there some way we can pull it up?”

  “I’d have to get a tool out of the car.” His voice sounded like he was hoping I’d say never mind, but I was sincerely curious. This was an old house that appeared to have been simply walked away from. It was a mystery house. And heaven knows I do love a good mystery.

  “Please?” I wheedled. “Would you do this for me?”

  He sighed. “Yes, Sandi, I’ll hike back to the car and get a screwdriver or something. But it’ll cost you.”

  “What?”

  “You have to go with me and help carry back supplies so we can camp around here tonight.”

  “I planned on doing that anyway,” I said. “In fact, why couldn’t we just stay in this house?”

  “Because it’s filthy, and probably full of bugs and spiders. Maybe even snakes.”

  “I’ve seen webs, but I haven’t seen one single spider. I could clean up in here a little, at least enough to make us comfortable for the night. Besides, we’d be more likely to encounter snakes if we sleep on the ground.”

  Pete threw his hands in the air and left the bedroom, heading for the front door of the house.

  “We could spend our whole vacation here,” I called after him. “It looks like there’s a whole town to explore.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Come on, Bubba,” I said to the dog. “We’d better go help him. I feel a mystery coming on and I want him to cooperate. Let’s try to stay on his good side.”

  I left by the front door and sidled back along the side of the house. Bubba had run out ahead of me and he was catching up to Pete. I took my time, taking in my surroundings. We’d found a beautiful place to call home for our vacation. I was having fun, after all.

  After walking for a few minutes, I looked up just in time to see the two of them going over the top of the rise. I stopped and picked a wildflower, enjoying myself. I chuckled. I’d probably just picked a weed, but I didn’t care. The air was crisp and clean and I could hear the birds singing.

  “Sandi,” Pete yelled, returning to the top of the rise. “You’d better get up here.” He disappeared back down the other side.

  He sounded very serious. I hoped nothing was wrong, but I stepped up my pace, reaching the incline as fast as I could. Cresting the top, I saw him and Bubba standing side by side, looking down at the ground. Well, actually, Bubba was dancing around excitedly, and Pete was trying to keep him away from whatever he was looking at.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, approaching the two males in my life.

  “Look at this.”

  I glanced down at the ground. The dirt was relatively soft, and I could see Bubba’s paw prints. I wondered what he might be thinking, and then he pointed at one of the prints. There was a horse hoof print right on top of Bubba’s paw print. I looked from the ground up to Pete’s face. He pointed toward the Jeep.

  Someone had been here. The doors were standing wide open, and a few things were lying on the ground, like my suitcase and clothing.

  “Pete?”

  He was already headed for the car.

  Chapter Three

  Looking around, I watched for a stranger on horseback. I hadn’t heard anyone, but… I’d thought I heard a horn honk earlier. Could someone have accidentally hit the horn while going through our car? I didn’t see any tire tracks, other than ours. I hurried to meet Pete at the Jeep.

  “See if anything is missing,” he said. “You go through your stuff and I’ll check mine.”

  Nothing seemed to be gone and I replaced everything in my suitcase. “Are any of your things missing? Mine are all here.”

  “It doesn’t look like… Wait! The GPS is gone. I think we’d better pack up and get out of here.”

  I couldn’t argue with him since it was obvious we weren’t alone on the mountain, so I shoved my suitcase back into the car and coaxed Bubba into the backseat.

  Climbing in, I put on my seatbelt. I remembered what a bumpy ride it had been coming up here. “You realize we’re going to have to back down the road until we can find a place to turn around, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. It’s going to be an interesting ride.” He pressed the automatic lock button for the doors. I noticed he’d pulled his gun out of his backpack and set it on the console. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous. It’s one thing to come face to face with a stranger, and another to know someone is there and possibly hiding, not to mention he’d taken our GPS, so he had to be up to no good.

  Picking up the gun, I set it on my lap, facing it away from Pete. He looked at me before putting the key in the ignition.

  “Bumpy ride,” I said. “I don’t want this thing falling and accidentally going off.”

  He nodded and turned the key. The engine turned over, but the car wouldn’t start. Stopping for a moment, he glanced at me before trying again. Second try, same thing. He took the gun from me and stuck it in his waistband before climbing out of the car to raise the hood.

  I scrunched down so I could see him through the crack between the hood and the body of the car. He was shaking his head.

  “What is it?” I called. He didn’t seem to hear me, so I opened the door and walked around the car.

  “Can you see what’s wrong?” I asked.

  “No. I’m no mechanic, but everything looks fine. I can’t figure it out.” He handed me the keys. “Try starting the car while I have the hood up. Maybe I can figure it out if the engine is turning over.”

  I moved the seat up on the driver’s side so I could reach everything and turned the key. Once again, the engine turned over but the car wouldn’t start.

  He came around and stopped by the door. “Whoever was here must have done something, but all the wires are in place. Nothing looks wrong. And we sure can’t get someone out here to help.” He held up his cell phone. “No reception.”

  I clamped my lips together and looked up at the ceiling of the car before saying anything. “So what do we do?”

  “I guess we’re going to be camping out here whether we want to or not, at least for a little while. I’ll walk down the mountain tomorrow and try to find help.”

  “We drove a long time to get up here. There’s nothing close enough to walk to. I think we’re stuck for the time being.”

  “Yeah.” He walked toward the back of the Jeep and started unloading the things we’d need to at least get through the night. He let Bubba out of the car and patted his head.

  Bubba could represent some protection, although he hadn’t seemed to notice that a stranger had been at the car. Of course, I reminded myself, we’d been far away when we were at the house. The big lug started sniffing the ground and I realized he was sniffing at the spots where there were horse tracks. He seemed excited, doing a little jig while he sniffed. He began to follow the tracks and I called him back. The last thing we nee
ded was for Bubba to disappear.

  We trudged, with part of our load, back over the rise and toward the house. Pete had locked the Jeep and checked every door.

  “I think you’re right, Sandi. I think we should stay in the house tonight. It might be safer than being out in the open. Why don’t you start clearing a space for us while I go back and get the rest of our stuff?”

  “I will. Take Bubba with you. I’d feel better if he was with you.”

  He nodded. “I’ll take the dog and leave you the gun.”

  I hated guns, and he knew it. However, there were times when they were necessary. I didn’t know if this was one of those times or not, but better to be safe than sorry. And even if I didn’t like them, I was a good shot. He knew that, too.

  We lugged everything inside the house. By this time our little path was becoming wider from going back and forth. With each step we trampled more of the wild growth outside the house.

  Pete and Bubba left to go back to the car and I started taking stock of our new living quarters, with a different eye than when we’d first entered the house. I was now thinking about cleaning instead of antiques. For once I was glad I’d over-packed. I was always afraid of not having enough when I traveled and I usually went overboard. Pete thought I was nuts when he saw me packing extra dish towels, paper towels and a scouring pad, but I bet he’d sing a different tune now. Before long the air was full of dust and floating pieces of spider webs. I took one of the towels outside and shook it out.

  Pete and Bubba returned after some time had gone by, and he nodded approvingly at what I’d accomplished. “What can I do to help?”

  “I need some water. And maybe if you collect some wood we can either build a fire in the fireplace or crank up that old stove.”

  Without a word, he picked up the gun from the table where I’d left it and stuck it back in his waistband. He lifted the metal tub out of the sink and headed out of the house toward the creek.

  I smiled at his back. He was such a good man. He could tease unmercifully sometimes, but when push came to shove, he was always there to help.