Terror on Top
Page 4
We headed over to the house. Stella was no more of a morning person than I was, which made for a comfortable silence. The windshield wipers swooped back and forth, and the glare from headlights coming our way sprayed out like star rays. I huddled in my sweater and clutched my coffee.
She pulled into the driveway. “You ready for this?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
We both stared somberly at the house as we contemplated what awaited us inside on this damp morning. Then we climbed out of the car and ran through the rain up to the porch.
Black powder greeted us on the door knob.
“Yuck!” Stella said, pulling out a tissue from her purse to turn the handle. She grimaced at it and stuck it into a pocket.
We entered into a dark house. Both of us froze.
Powder smeared along door frames, base boards, light switches and window sills. It looked like a drunk coal fairy had been trapped inside, flying into the walls, falling to the floor, and hitting the window sills.
Stella sighed and started snapping pictures with her phone. “They’re not going to pay us enough for this mess.”
“Is this normal? I mean, do detectives just leave it for home owners to clean?” I’d never thought about it before.
“Seems like it.”
There was only one thing I really cared about. I hurried into the study to check on the fate of the painting. I threw open the door.
There it was. Beautiful and black powder free.
The relief was so palatable I sank against the door frame to hold me up. But it still brought up another problem. Were we supposed to just leave it sitting here during the open house? It felt like leaving a package of catnip out on the counter in a house filled with cats.
Jonathan Twist believed that Calvin Dunham was dead. This was the first piece of evidence that seemed to back that theory up for me. No one in their right mind would leave behind something so valuable.
It took several hours for the two of us to get everything cleaned back up. Normally cleaning was very mundane, boring work. But today odd noises like slamming car doors, the wind blowing, and weird creaks made me so jumpy I felt exhausted by the time we’d finished. I can’t even count the times I walked to the windows to make sure no one else was at the house.
Finally everything was finished except for one area.
Stella jiggled the glass-cleaner bottle. “You ready?”
I wanted to whimper and head out to the car. Head as in run. Instead, I nodded.
We walked up the stairs like two mice. I listened as hard as I could.
Stella paused outside the master bedroom, looked at me, and then twisted the doorknob. She entered with me hot on her heels, ever the wingman.
I glared around the room while she held the cleaner bottle out, ready to spray anyone straight in the eyes.
Nothing was unusual other than the endless black powder. In fact, the room looked like a ball of black powder had been used for racket ball. For a hot minute I thought about just repainting. We were able to make good progress with the paper towels and cleaner. Still, the room and its closet took us almost half as long as cleaning the rest of the house.
Finally, everything was done. We gathered up our supplies, wound up the vacuum cord and stuffed it in the closet, and headed down the stairs.
I was washing my hands while Stella boxed up the remaining items when the front door swung open.
Stella stifled a scream. It came out an odd squeak. I was surprised I even heard it over my galloping heart beat.
The woman gasped at the sight of us, her eyes going as round as eggs. She clutched her hand to her chest as she jumped backward.
“I’m so sorry!” she said. “I didn’t know anyone would be here.”
I saw she was holding a key.
“Who are you?” Stella asked. Her hand eased into her pocket for her cell phone.
“I was trying to find Calvin,” she answered. “I haven’t seen him for a while, and after the police came through yesterday, I wanted to see if he was okay.”
“And you have a key? You just walked right in?” Stella demanded.
I watched the woman’s facial reactions, unsure if she looked like a killer. Not that I knew exactly what a killer looked like.
“Oh, yes,” She jingled it before dropping it into her purse. “I used to house-sit for Calvin. You know, water his plants and stuff like that when he was out of town. I live down the street.”
“Did he go out of town a lot?” Stella asked.
“Well, with his work and all….” She eyed the two of us curiously. “Who are you, exactly? What are you doing here?”
“I’m the realtor. The house is being sold.” Stella answered. “Didn’t you see our car?”
“I thought maybe it was Calvin’s.”
“Since this is for sale, perhaps I can get that key from you?” Stella continued. “Calvin no longer owns the house, the bank does.”
The woman’s eyebrows lifted briefly. Then she smiled. “Sure, in just a second. You know, I would love a quick look around. It’s so weird seeing a house you’ve been to a million times suddenly empty.”
“What was your name again?” I asked.
“Oh, right!” She held out a hand. “My name’s Jennifer Morgan.”
“I’m Georgie, and this is Stella O’Neil.”
Stella gave her a forced smile. “At this time, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Well, maybe just the basement? Calvin has always been so mysterious about it.” Jennifer took a step forward with an eager light in her eyes.
Stella stood in her way. “We’re having an open house this weekend. Maybe you can come then.”
“Oh. Sure. Of course.” Jennifer bit her lip and looked past me toward the back of the house.
“We’ll see you later, then.” Stella was still smiling, but her hand hovered near the woman’s elbow, ready to steer her outside.
Jennifer nodded. With a limp wave, she turned and hurried outside. Stella shut the door behind her while I watched out the window. Jennifer got into a white car. I squinted for a second and then grabbed my phone and sent myself a text.
“What is that?” asked Stella.
“Sending myself the license plate number.”
“Good thinking.” Stella smacked her forehead. She sighed. “I didn’t get the key back. I have to get this lock changed before we go.”
“Because of that expensive painting?”
“Or in case she really is searching for some overlooked evidence from the scene of the crime.”
“That whole thing was weird. What do you think?”
“I’m kind of wondering if we’ve just seen the murderer?”
Stella obviously had been reading my mind.
Chapter 7
I started to text again. “I might be able to help as far as the lock goes. Let me see if Frank can help.” While I was speaking, I sent a message to my boyfriend.
Jennifer Morgan’s arrival was beyond bizarre. Was she going to come back again? If she watched Calvin’s house so much, how could she mistake Stella’s car for his?
There was also the surprise of an unknown basement.
My phone vibrated with a text from Frank saying he’d bring a door knob by.
I tucked the phone away, feeling thoughtful. “Did you see a basement entrance?”
She shook her head. “No, and I didn’t see it in the listing.”
Weird and weirder. Where was this mysterious basement Jennifer was trying to see?
We wandered back through the house again, checking the rooms, opening and closing the doors. Stella didn’t find an entrance, and I had no luck either.
“You think it could be outside?” I asked.
We didn’t have any other ideas, so we decided to check. It turned out I was right. There were a pair of wooden hatched doors on the patio.
I hurried over and tried them. A big padlock was fastened through the handles. “So, I’m guessing there’s no key?” I
fiddled with the lock. It looked like a new one.
Stella shook her head.
There wasn’t much we could do. A bit downcast, we both headed back inside to wait for Frank.
There was nothing to sit on, other than the one easy chair. Stella offered it to me with a wave of her hand and started pacing the length of the room.
I collapsed in exhaustion and stared out the front window.
Finally, as the sky turned gray, Frank pulled up the driveway.
I ran outside to greet him. “Hey, handsome,”
“Hey, babe. Looking pretty cute yourself.”
He gave me a hug and a kiss. We were still kind of new to this dating thing, so the kiss knocked my socks off.
“What’s going on?” he said, after we’d each taken a breath. He turned toward the house, eyes squinting.
I filled him in about the neighbor and her own key.
He held up the brown bag. “Have a new lock right here.
“Can you install it?”
He smiled. “I never leave home without my bag of tricks.” He took long strides to the trunk of his car and returned with a toolbox. In no time, he had the new doorknob installed and held out the pair of new keys to Stella.
“Thank you so much!” She snatched them up and fiddled with the lock box.
“Hey, want to see something cool while you’re here? You’ll never believe it.”
He nodded. How could he not with a cliffhanger like that?
I grabbed his hand—warm and huge. Loved it!— and led him to the study. With a proud smile, I shut the door.
He grabbed me in his arms. “I like this surprise.”
I laughed. “No. That!” I pointed to the painting.
“Huh.” He drooped his arm around my shoulders. “Your paintings are better.”
I wiggled away. “Mine are so not! This is the real deal! It’s worth millions!”
His nose wrinkled as he stared at it again. “Goes to show how crazy this country really is.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. Grabbing his hand, I dragged him back to the living room.
Stella was on her phone. “Hey,” she said. “While you’re here, can you check something else out? It’s in the backyard.”
Oh, yeah. The basement. He followed us through the slider.
“That’s kind of unusual,” Frank said when he spotted the doors. He bent down and lifted the padlock and gave it a little shake. “I’ve got this.” He dropped it with a clang and stalked back through the house.
“Where’s he going?” Stella asked.
“Getting his bag of tricks.”
He came back with a huge pair of loppers, and with a little grunting, snipped off the padlock. He unwove it from the handle and then heaved open the doors.
Concrete stairs led down into a pitch-blackness.
The three of us stared down. I swear I heard someone swallow. I don’t know what they were doing, but I was definitely trying to work up some nerve to go down. I mean, after all, every kid alive knows that’s where the monsters are.
Frank snapped on his phone’s flashlight and aimed its rather wimpy beam into the darkness. It didn’t help.
He tested the first step. “Well, it’s do or die.” And then he headed down.
Seriously? “Verbiage matters at times like this,” I muttered as I followed.
The light from outside doorway dimmed as Stella came after me.
Dank air curled around us, assaulting our sense of smell.
“What is that?” I asked, my hand going up to my nose. The reek was a cross between mud, mold and something quite unpleasant. Rotten, heavy. I shivered. Possibly dead.
Frank didn’t answer, having moved over to the closest wall. Suddenly, bright overhead lightbulbs made us blink. After a quick check around the creepy interior, scary visions evaporated, leaving behind an odd tinge of disappointment.
Of course, there were no monsters or hiding killers. There were only concrete walls and a damp concrete floor, an abandoned washer and dryer, some clumps of papers, and a few boxes.
Stella made a slow turn.
“So where’s the good stuff the neighbor lady was telling us about?” I asked.
“I have no idea.” Stella’s words were muffled. She still had her nose covered with her hand.
Nothing stood out or appeared special. After the woman’s excitement, I’d expect to see that maybe Calvin had been a hoarder or had a treasure chest spilling with gold coins.
I peeped behind the washer and dryer. The surfaces of the old machines were covered in a gritty dust. There was nothing back there but cobwebs. I shivered and wiped my fingers on my pants.
A row of old cabinets were above them. I opened one to a bed of undisturbed dust. Other than that, they were empty.
Stella rummaged through the papers while Frank examined the blocks in the concrete wall.
It was a futile search. Nothing stood out.
I screamed at a tickle on my neck. Something had landed on me. A spider for sure. I was one second away from mindlessly tearing my shirt off when Frank ran over.
“Get it! Get it! Get it!” I squealed.
He plucked something from my hair. A giant dust bunny, fallen from the ceiling where the remaining cobwebs gently swung from the stirred-up air.
I shivered. “I have to get out of here.”
I hurried to the stairs. As I approached, I saw that they were open underneath. Except that wasn’t quite true. Moving closer, I noticed there was a section that had been boarded in under the bottom three stairs.
That piqued my curiosity enough. I squatted down to see underneath.
The bottom step tread was covered by a board. There was a single nail that held it in place.
“Hey, guys! Check this out!”
Frank stooped his lanky body to peer under the stairs.
“What is it?” Stella asked.
“Hang tight.” Frank pulled a multi-tool out of his pocket. He searched through the tools for a flat screw driver while I scooted out of his way. Then he moved forward to take my place and began prying at the wood. The board popped off with a squeak at the nail.
It was a cubby, completely empty now. It hadn’t always been that way. The bottom was covered in a green cloth, similar to the type used on pool tables. There were impressions in the center of it, a square and a second odd shape.
“What do you think was here?” Stella asked.
“I don’t know. A box, maybe.” I answered.
“I’m going to call my uncle and give him an update. This is all pretty bizarre.”
I agreed. Was this what the neighbor woman had been referring to? A secret compartment? But if she had killed him, wouldn’t she have come down here to check for the items herself? Why come back later?
This happened to me all the time. Once again, I was being served a menu of no answers and only more questions.
Chapter 8
Frank drove me to his grandma Cecelia’s house for the big meeting with Oscar.
I paused to admire the bulbed flowers peeking up from the bed around the front flower tree while Frank jogged up the steps to the front door. I was delaying, there’s no question about it. This meeting was a big deal. I felt like I’d finally gotten my life back, and suddenly I was second guessing myself on if I wanted to know more about what happened to Derek. Maybe I should just let sleeping dogs lie.
“You coming?” Frank asked, holding open the door.
I closed my eyes. Terror. That’s what I was feeling. Pure fear.
He shut the door and came back down the stairs. I didn’t want to look at him, afraid he would think less of me.
His arm draped around my shoulder as he pulled me into his chest. “This is your decision. Your choice. You are in control. I support you no matter what.”
“Really?” I whispered.
“Yeah. Of course. Really.”
“It seems so awful to not find out about Derek’s death. Like I’m being disrespectful to him, somehow.”
I thought about that day, how his car had careened over the cliff in front of me. How I’d stood at the top and screamed for him, knowing it was too late. How I was told it was suicide.
The guilt.
The shame. The wondering of how I could have missed the signs.
The final realization that it couldn’t have been suicide. That he’d been murdered, and the blame had been shifted to my shoulders to carry.
I nodded. This really was for me. “Okay, I’m ready now.”
Grabbing my hand, Frank led me into the house.
Oscar was already inside the kitchen. The warm aroma of roasted meat and gravy wafted in the air like a warm hug.
“Hi Oscar. Hi Cecelia!” I waved as I walked in.
“Come in, come in!” Cecelia said, her white hair in a tidy bun at the top of her head. “GiGi! I’ve missed you. You’ve been busy with Stella, I hear. Don’t get used to it. We have a full house next week.”
GiGi was her pet name for me. The news of guests was fabulous. Without tourists, I had no job.
I eyed Oscar thoughtfully as Cecelia enlisted Frank’s help in setting the table. I wasn’t ready to say anything. I needed Stella there for backup.
“So, how have you been?” Cecelia asked as she whisked past me for a basket of homemade rolls. She handed them to me.
I lifted up the cloth napkin covering them to take in the yeasty scent. “Wonderful.”
“Wonderful? Tell me more.” She pointed to a glass jar. “Don’t forget the raspberry preserves.”
She knew they were my favorite. “Oh, I meant these biscuits. As far as my life, it’s going okay. I’m helping Stella out cleaning this house. We found more than we bargained for.”
“I heard someone died?”
“Well, we discovered a banker dead in the closet.”
Cecelia shot me a look with a gasp.
Frank came in and overheard that last thing. “I heard the story quite after the fact myself.”