A Tale of Two Lenores

by Terry Mattingly

  Bambi tensed and let out a low growl as when Shane slammed the dashboard with his hand. “Think what could have happened to you, Collins. My God, when I think what might have happened to you. Why would you work someplace like that? Did you enjoy having hundred bills stuck down your cleavage and your butt smacked by some geezer old enough to be your father?”

  “Sure, Travers, I enjoyed every minute jerks like you were groping me! Why else would a girl work at that place unless she was asking for it? Isn’t that what you are implying?” Lenore quiver with indignation and warm tears streamed down her face. She would be damn if she let Travers see her tears. “I did not and would never demean myself by allowing a man to treat me in such a way. You of all people, Travers, to suggest such a thing.”

  Shane visualized nightclubs he had visited and remembered with shame some of his own antics when he’d too much to drink. His anger flared even more, and Shane lashed out. “Why did you have to work there? Why did they hire you, of all people?”

  “This is exactly why I did not want to talk about Alvarez until later, Shane Travers. You go big brother on me.”

  “I am not your big brother, Collins.”

  “Damn right you are not, so stop that acting that way.” Fury blinded Lenore “For your information, I worked at Club Nocturno for $25.00 per hour, exceptionally good pay for a bartender, I must say. I had rent and utilities to pay, and I do enjoy eating occasionally, not to mention cab fare back and forth to work and school. I wanted to be independent and not always be asking for help from Dad. As to why they hired me, I am a damn good bartender, that is why. And, while I might not be drop dead gorgeous like your little Bethany, I am sure not butt ugly, Shane Travers. I looked pretty damn hot wearing the short sexy, low-cut black dress that was my uniform.”

  “She is not my little Bethany, Travers.” Shane growled.

  “Well, you could have fooled me,” Lenore smirked. “You were jealous back there when she told you about celebrating with Brad Andrews.”

  Before he could reply, his phone rang. “Travers.” Shane barked, answering the call. “Yeah Joe, what’s up? Shane listened to the caller without interruption.

  “We are heading out there now.” Silence. “Thanks, Joe.”

  Tim, wishing he had never opened his mouth, wondered how he ever got in the middle of a lovers’ spat. Shane may deny any feelings for Lenore Collins but friendship, but the man is lying to himself. As far Lenore Collins, Tim saw the tears of hurt streaming down the woman’s cheek. Travers’ words cut her pretty deep, deeper than a reprimand from a man only a friend. He couldn’t reach Twin Maples too soon. He and Bambi needed out of this drama. Shane got out to open the gate when Tim did at last reach Twin Maples. Tim took the opportunity to apologize to Lenore.

  “I am sorry, Lenore. I should have kept my curiosity to myself.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Tim. Travers is just a jerk.”

  “I think he cares what happens to you, that’s all.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, sure.” Lenore would not admit how much Shane’s words hurt.

  “I think you two have a love hate relationship and do not want to admit the love part,” Tim opined. From the startled look in Lenore’s eyes and the blush creeping up her face, Tim was sure he had them pegged.

  The jerk reclaimed his seat and Tim continued up the drive to Twin Maples, stopping in front of the what once must have been a magnificent Italianate style house.

  Lenore stared up at the old house, now looking sad and lonely with its bare windows and weathered siding. Weeds of spring sprouted through the cracked uneven sidewalk. She was seven years old the last day she and her father were here together, the day Mr. Paul died. But she remembered the day as if it were yesterday. Lenore and her father showed up for their usual weekend visit to find an ambulance in the drive and Mr. Wilkes on a stretcher in the rear of the vehicle. The old man never came home. Lenore couldn’t remember when her mother died, and Grandpa Collins died before she was born. Mr. Paul was the first important person in the young girl’s life to die and she didn’t understand why he went away.

  Lenore and her father often visited Mr. Paul at Twin Oaks on weekends. She remembered Mr. Paul sitting in his old rocker on the front porch in the summer and in front of the fireplace during cooler weather. Shane tagged along at every opportunity. The housekeeper, whose name Lenore could not recall now, always had treats for them. A boy lived there with Mr. Paul, Charlie B. they called him. She realized now that Charlie B. was intellectually disabled, but to the younger Lenore and Shane he was just a funny big kid. They would all listen to the stories of the older men and munch on cookies or run and play outside, sometimes catching lightening bugs. Funny how I can remember that as if it were only yesterday. Mr. Paul and Charlie always called Lenore ‘little girl’. “Little girl, do you want another cookie?” Mr. Paul would ask. “You can’t catch me, little girl,” Charlie laughed and teased as her short legs tried to keep up with him.

  “Do you want to go inside, Leni?”

  She had not realized Shane was standing beside her. “Yes, please.” Forgetting her anger at him for the moment. Lenore followed him up the steps and onto the porch. She imagined the squeak of the old rocking chair. On a sunny spring day such as this, Mr. Paul would be sitting on the porch. Shane unlocked the door and stood aside so she could enter.

  She wandered room to room, hearing the drone of her father’s and Mr. Paul’s voices as the men swapped ‘short and tall tales’, as Miss Grace called the stories. Yes, that was the housekeeper’s name. Miss Grace, and Charlie B. was her grandson. In the kitchen, Lenore closed her eyes, seeing Miss Grace bending over the big oven pulling a tray of fresh baked cookies out and smelling the tantalizing aroma of the warm treats. The children would take turns sneaking a cookie off the tray and Miss Grace would pretend she was scolding them.

  Cautiously climbing up the big staircase, Lenore ran her hand over the dusty oak balustrade Miss Grace had kept brightly polished. Lenore had tried to slide down the balustrade one day. If Charlie and Shane could do it, so could she. If not for Shane intervening at just the right moment, she would have fallen.

  The bedrooms, once full of massive family heirlooms, stood ghostly empty. As on the first floor, the intricately carved fireplace mantels were absent, sold at auction. In the smallest of the rooms, Shane watched as Lenore walked straight to a door and opened it, revealing a built-in wooden commode, the chamber pot still in place. Lenore squealed with glee when she lifted the pot out of its place and a section of the wall behind the commode swung open revealing a narrow steep set of steps. Shane had forgotten the secret stairs. Without hesitation, she climbed in the hidden passage and began to ascend the steps to the secret room leading to the Widow’s Walk.

  “Collins, get down from there.” Travers demanded.

  She turned and grinned. “Don’t be silly, Travers. Come on,” she challenged, continuing her ascent up the steps. Shane cursed and climbed in the passage behind her. At the top of the stairs, he looked around. The old place was empty except an old mattress and a few blankets. I wonder when anyone last slept here? Shane let go another curse when he spied Lenore climbing the ladder to the roof.

  “Collins, you are not going to the roof. Get down now,” he demanded.

  “We can see for miles around from the Widow’s walk, Shane. Please, we may see Dad.”

  “NO. That roof is probably rotten by now,” he declared. “Stop giving me that pitiful look and get down now.”

  She stopped her descent midway down and suggested, “Let’s check out the other secret room, Travers.”

  “There’s another secret room?”

  “Between the kitchen and study. I had forgot about it until now; there are secret doors to it from the kitchen and the study,” she admitted. “The blueprints to the house were in the collection of Wilkes family history Mr. Paul gave to Dad. Dad may have been investigating the room and got trapped inside.”

  “It’s worth
a try. Jump and I will catch you,” he dared.

  “Oh no, Shane Travers,” Lenore protested, laughing. “I have seen that look in your eyes before.”

  “Chicken?” he taunted, holding up his arms. “Jump. I dare you.”

  She jumped; he caught her in his outstretched arm. Travers set her feet on the floor, gave her a quick hug, their argument long forgotten. “Collins, I miss having you around. When are you coming home for good?”

  “I don’t know yet where my work will take me,” she replied wistfully. “Once I get through the next few weeks, though, I will be home more.”

  “Well, beggars can’t be chooser, I guess.” He let her go. “Now show me this secret room.”

  Tim and Bambi stood at the foot of the ladder waiting for them.

  “Nothing up there?”

  “No. Collins remembered a secret room and we checked it out. There is supposed to be a secret room off the kitchen,” Shane informed him.

  Lenore, already in the kitchen, stared intently at inner wall. She glanced over her shoulder at the two men. “A built-in cupboard stood on that wall. The door to the room was behind the cupboard. The wall is boarded up now. We need to pry the boards off”

  “Whoa, Collins.” Shane laughed. “How about we look for the other door in the study first?”

  “You are always so pragmatic,” she scoffed.

  “Rationality and stubbornness are too of my best trait, old friend.”

  They made their way to the study. Lenore giving them the history of the secret room as they walked.

  “Secret rooms and tunnels were often built into older homes. The rooms served as storage for valuables, hiding places, and escape routes if ever needed. Dad said this old plantation was a station on the underground railroad during the Civil War. The room and tunnel became a hiding place for runaway slaves.”

  Tim interrupted. “I thought Kentucky was pro-Confederate?”

  “Kentucky was a state divided during the war. Brother against brother and neighbor against neighbor, east against west, and north against south.” Lenore explained. “Hylton was not any different. Twin Maples had few slaves, thanks to the strong anti-slavery sentiments of Henry Wilkes’s wife. The underground railroad stop was her project. He tolerated it. Henry, Lenore’s grandfather, remained neutral in appearance but played both sides during the war. He and his cousin, the man who owned the neighboring plantation, were taking no chances. The two cousins would survive no matter who won the war.”

  “Ok, Collins. Here we are. Where is the door?” Travers asked upon entering the room.

  “Dad said the room is between the kitchen and study, which means the door should be on that wall,” she told him indicating a wall lined with bookshelves.”

  “That’s it? No clues as the what lever to pull or shelves to move.?”

  “He didn’t say,” she told him. “The wall can’t be more than twelve foot long and there are three of us. So, let’s get started.”

  “I think we are on a wild goose chase, Collins.” Shane was doubtful. If Professor Collins was hiding in the secret room, why wasn’t he knocking on the wall or yelling to alert them. Unless he can’t.

  They divided the wall between them in thirds and began pulling on shelves, pushing on the rear wall, and looking for hidden releases. It was Bambi that found the door, letting out one sharp bark and scratching the wall.

  “Bambi found something.” Tim said the obvious as all three watched the dog.

  It took several minutes before they found the lever. Shane pulled the lever down, surprised when it worked without a hitched. The section of bookcase swung out only slightly. The heavy door yielded to a firm tug, opening to the hidden room, lit by a single dim light. The beams of the two officers’ tactical flashlights dispelled the darkness. Placed against one wall of the small room was a cot.

  “It’s your father, Collins,” Shane reported. “Tim, we need an ambulance.”

  Chapter 9

  Lenore was through the door, rushing to where Shane knelt next to the cot cradling James Collins, his head on a pillow and a blanket pulled to his chin. A chair, placed near the cot, held the only source of the light, a bottle of water, and a bundle of old paper. She fell to her knees, checking for a pulse and breathing.

  “Daddy, its Lenore. Can you hear me?” She gently shook his shoulders. “Wake up Daddy,” she encouraged but her father did not respond.

  “He is alive, Shane, but he won’t wake up.” She started to cry.

  Shane had already ascertained the man did have a pulse, a weak and slow pulse, but a pulse. A wound on the back of Professor Collins’ head was evidence of a fall or an assault. He was betting on an assault. Why else would Professor be in here but to protect the man from further harm or prevent his discovery? Shane was not a paramedic, but he’d seen enough in his line of work to realize the professor needed medical attention, soon. He prayed EMS arrived before it was too late. Lenore knelt at her father’s side holding his hand awaiting the arrival of the ambulance. It arrived faster than he could have hoped.

  Shane stayed with Lenore and Tim awaited outside for the ambulance. The paramedics arrived and were now assessing James Collins, asking Lenore questions the whole time they prepared their patient for transport. How did he receive his injury? We don’t know; this is how we found him. Allergies? None. Medications? Vitamins. Diabetic? No. Health problems at all? None. Alcohol or Drug use? Occasional alcohol only. When did she last communicate with her father? Yesterday afternoon. Was he okay then? Yes. Within minutes, Mr. Collins had a breathing tube down his throat and IV fluids infusing. Lenore, watching the proceedings as if in a dream, her joy at finding her father alive tempered with concern over his condition, took comfort from the paramedic’s calm manner and reassuring attitude. Soon, the two paramedics loaded the stretcher carrying her father in the back of the ambulance and crawled in behind him. Shane helped Lenore into the front of the ambulance with the driver. She gave him a grateful smile and saw tears in his eyes.

  Shane and Tim watched the ambulance drive away followed by a police cruiser. The CSI team already in the house looking for any evidence. One item of especial interest to Detective Travers was an oversize envelope on the chair. There was a note with it, scrawled in awkward letters, For Mr. Jim from Charlie B. Shane had not heard of Charlie B in years and now his name is on an envelope near the unresponsive man.

  “Shane, what did Joe have to tell you earlier? You never said?” Tim asked, remembering the detective’s earlier phone call.

  “Sorry Tim. I was pretty upset about Lenore,” he apologized. “The body in the grave is an FBI agent. He and his partner have been out of contact for five day. The Feds are on their way.”

  ***

  Casey had slept in the secret room in the attic as usual and Charlie stayed near his friend. She realized that Mr. Collins was not responding as he should when Charlie tried to wake him up. He had a pulse and heart beat but didn’t open his eyes or speak unless she called his name repeatedly. The man needs help soon but how can they get him to that help? Mr. Collins was not a big man and Charlie had managed to carry him from the porch to here, but he could not carry the man to the main road. The man had no cell phone in his pockets and no keys for the car Charlie said was in front of the house. She lost her own cell phone when she escaped from the man who tried to rape her. The same man who killed Brad, if it was indeed him in the grave. They could not call for help. The only choice Casey could see was for one of them to go for help. Charlie would need to go. He knew the area better than she did, knew people whom he could trust if he could just get to them safely. She felt guilty letting Charlie go out on his own, but it seemed the only rationale solution.

  The decision made, a new dilemma arose. No one must find Casey or their hideout. Charlie would go for help and lead the police to the injured man. Casey will hide in the tunnel instead of the attic room, just in case she needed to make a quick escape. The killers won’t find Mr. Jim and Casey will be safe.

 
“I will bring you help, Casey,” Charlie vowed.

  “No Charlie, you mustn’t do that. Not yet,” she told him firmly. “Get far away from here when you get Mr. Jim to safety. Please Charlie, I don’t want you hurt.”

  Charlie looked doubtful but agreed as he helped her through the trap door to the tunnel under the old house. He followed her through the tunnel. Promising Casey he will be back for her, Charlie squeezed through the crevice in the rock and started for help. Charlie started walking until he reached a combination gas station and mini market. Charlie rushed in and asked the man behind the counter to call 911.

  “Why?”

  “There is a man hurt at the old plantation, mister. Please. I have to go back to him.”

  He stayed long enough to see the man pick up the phone.

  Charlie started running and did not stop until he reached Twin Maples. He now watched from a distance as Mr. Jim rode away on the ambulance. They had found Mr. Jim without Charlie’s help. With his old friend taken care of, Charlie went back to the hideout for his new friend. Charlie did not want Lenore to be mad at him, but he could not leave his friend alone.

  Chapter 10

  Carlos Alvarez watched the police SUV drive off down the street. Such a waste, he thought, and Carlos had no one to blame but his own brother Luis. Lenore Collins had made it clear when Carlos interviewed her for the part-time job as bartender at Club Nocturno that she would not tolerate customers who assumed that feeling her up was part of what they paid the night club’s extravagant prices for. Yes, she had seen the short black dress, the club’s required uniform for women was. Yes, she had no trouble wearing it, but Lenore Collins will only tend bar, not mingled among the guests looking seductive. If that was not her only job description, she did not want the job.