Murder in the Reading Room

by Ellery Adams

  Directing a steely gaze at Ramsey, Jane said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m already late for my first event. We should go.”

  Ramsey stood up and smiled. “I intruded on your visit with Mr. Tucker, so I should be the one to leave. If there’s anything I can do to improve your stay, please call me.”

  He gave Jane a business card and thanked Tuck for the tea.

  With Ramsey gone, Jane longed to do something to erase the glumness enveloping their host. Wandering over to a bookcase, she asked, “Is there a favorite in this collection, Tuck?”

  Her question did the trick. Tuck brightened and made a beeline for the bookshelf next to the window. “I keep my best books together—like they’re all the closest of friends.” He chuckled. “Well, they’re my friends. How could a person not feel something when faced with a book like this?”

  Pulling a book with a blue cover down from the shelf, he handed it to Jane. “It’s just an old field guide to birds. But look at those drawings. They’re almost ready to fly off the page.”

  The illustrations were marvelous, as were those in the next book Tuck pulled down from the shelf, which was all about Southern apple varieties. He showed her a few more books, and when Jane was confident that his good spirits had been restored, she told him that she needed to go.

  “Do you mind if we stop by tomorrow?” she asked as Tuck led them outside. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

  Though he looked somewhat confused, Tuck agreed. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, so I might go fishing. Just give me a call and I’ll tell you what I’m up to.”

  Back in the truck, Jane released an audible sigh. “I do not want to spend three hours listening to a talk on Hotel Technology in the Year 2030, but I’ll suffer through it. You and I are not attending the evening event, however. We’re going to investigate the Bacchus fountain instead.” Jane smiled. She felt genuinely hopeful for the first time since coming to Biltmore. “There’s a reason Ramsey Parrish hangs out near that fountain, and I doubt it’s because he’s a fan of Greco-Roman mythology.”

  “We’ll have to be very careful,” Lachlan said solemnly. “If we weren’t on Parrish’s radar before, we’re definitely on it now.”

  Jane tried to be attentive during the afternoon’s discussion on advertising strategies, but all she could think about was finding Edwin.

  As soon as the session was over, she returned to her hotel and ordered pizza from a local restaurant. Lachlan had already picked up the case of Biltmore wine Jane had purchased yesterday and, having nothing else on hand to drink, asked if he should open a bottle.

  “Why not?” she said. “We can always get more.”

  Lachlan suggested they stick to one glass, seeing as they needed to keep their wits about them to sneak around Biltmore after dark.

  “While you were at your conference, I made preparations for tonight’s outing.” Lachlan unrolled a map of the grounds closest to the chateau. “We’ll park here.” He pointed at a shaded area indicating a group of trees. “It’s in the woods. No one should be able to spot the truck, and there are no cameras in the vicinity. From here, it’s a short walk to the esplanade. It won’t be quick because we’ll have to stick to the woods.”

  After dinner, Jane dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved black top. Lachlan gave her a black baseball cap and glanced out the kitchen window. “It’s not dark enough. We’ll give it another thirty minutes.”

  Jane decided to spend the time talking to her sons. Eloise, who’d volunteered to watch the boys while Jane was away, answered the phone mid-laugh.

  “Sorry!” she giggled. “The twins and I were battling a dish soap blob in the kitchen sink.

  Your boys are tons of fun, Jane. And they know a million Harry Potter facts. This afternoon, we made butterbeer and went on a hike to find the perfect sticks to transform into wands. That’s on the docket for tomorrow.”

  “You’re like the coolest of cool aunts,” Jane said.

  “I have big shoes to fill. Yours! Listen, Hem is tugging my arm. He really wants to say hello.”

  As soon as Hem came on the line, words poured out of his mouth. He told Jane about the butterbeer and the plans for his wand. He would have continued, undeterred, had Fitz not picked up the receiver in Jane’s bedroom.

  “Uncle Aloysius is taking us fishing after church!” he cried. “The biggest catfish in the world is in the Storyton River, and we’re going to catch him! If we do, we’ll eat him for supper.”

  “Fitz!” Hem shouted angrily. “I was talking first!”

  Jane knew she had to stop the boys before an argument used up her phone time. “I have an idea for your wands,” she said. “Ask Mrs. Templeton if she has gold or silver thread in her sewing box. That could be your unicorn hair.”

  “Ron Weasley’s wand had unicorn hair,” Fitz said. “I like Ron.”

  “I don’t want unicorn stuff. That’s for girls,” said Hem. “I want a dragon heartstring.”

  Jane and her sons spoke of wands until Hem announced that it was movie time. Eloise had brought Hocus Pocus and a container of Jiffy Pop for the evening’s entertainment. The twins had never seen this stovetop popcorn, and Jane guessed that Eloise would convince Fitz and Hem that they were witnessing a bit of kitchen magic.

  After reminding her boys to be on their best behavior at Sunday School, Jane wished them sweet dreams and hung up.

  Next, she put on her hiking boots and black baseball cap and examined herself in the mirror. “I hope a little bit of magic comes my way tonight,” she told her reflection. “Just enough to lead me to Edwin.”

  As Lachlan drove to the estate, Jane reflected on how the crisp, autumn night seemed especially dark for September. Spectral clouds scudded over the black sky, blotting out the light from a pale quarter moon.

  Gaining entrance to Biltmore was easy. All Jane had to do was flash her conference I.D. at the gatekeeper. He examined it, wished her a pleasant evening, and told them to proceed. Lachlan drove past Antler Village, the venue for the Luxury Lodging event, and slowly progressed on the quiet, curving road leading to the chateau. As he grew closer, he switched off the headlights and slowed even more dramatically.

  Jane didn’t know how he drove without lights, but Lachlan was known for his keen eyesight. Like the hawks and falcons he trained, he could see better than most humans. Once, when Jane asked about this gift, he said that he used more than his sight alone when tracking. He also used his sense of hearing and the laser focus he’d honed as an Army Ranger.

  Despite her faith in his eyesight, Jane went rigid when he pulled off the road and eased the truck into a copse of trees. Though he came within inches of several tree trunks, he never made contact. Just as Jane felt that his luck was on the verge of running out, he turned off the engine.

  “I don’t want to use flashlights, so step carefully,” he said.

  Together, they set off through the woods toward the house. It was hard to believe that the behemoth structure was close by. Jane couldn’t glimpse a single light. There were only trees, leaves crunching underfoot, and shadows.

  Every so often, Lachlan would stop. He’d put his hand out to keep her from plowing into him and would stand, still as stone, and listen.

  “Owl,” he’d whisper. Another time, he murmured, “Possum.”

  Jane didn’t know whether to be comforted by the presence of wildlife or not. Every time a rope of vines or a thin branch brushed her ankle, she imagined an opossum’s tail. Having a run-in with a marsupial in the dark wasn’t her idea of fun.

  Edwin, she thought. I have to find you. I want to go back to the days when excitement meant curling up on the sofa with a book and a glass of wine.

  Lachlan put a hand on Jane’s arm. “We’re here. When we reach the Bacchus fountain, I’ll shine my penlight on the face. Try not to talk. If that fountain is covering an opening, there could be motion detectors or cameras with listening devices. It might also be booby-trapped. I brought Sterling’s jamming device to
knock out the signal from any surveillance feed, but if we use it, someone’s bound to notice. Which means we won’t have much time once I turn it on.”

  “I understand,” she said and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. “No matter what happens, thank you for helping me. This mission goes above and beyond your oath.”

  “My oath is to keep you safe. No matter where you go,” Lachlan said before moving to the strip of lawn behind the esplanade. Sticking close to the base of the massive stone wall, he crept toward the end of the structure. He turned the corner, with Jane on his heels, and faced the Bacchus wall fountain.

  A sconce affixed to the pillar of the wrought-iron gates separating the chateau yard from the rest of the grounds cast just enough light to pull the Bacchus head out of the shadows.

  The mythological creature was a sinister-looking thing. He wore a wreath of ivy leaves and grapes, and a pair of impressive ram horns curled from his temple to the bottom of his ear. His furrowed forehead and scowling eyes made him look unusually grumpy for a god representing festivities.

  Lachlan plunged his hands into the fountain and felt around while Jane concentrated on the sculpted face. After several minutes of touching and scrutinizing, she decided that Bacchus had nothing to hide.

  There were several doors leading into the esplanade’s interior. Lachlan chose to test the one closest to the Bacchus fountain. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Lachlan took out the signal-jamming device and entered a code. After passing the device to Jane, he removed a lockpick kit from the pocket of his cargo pants.

  The door was made of thick wood and, judging by its iron keyhole, required a coordinating skeleton key. Having seen most of her Fins practicing their lockpick skills, Jane knew that opening a skeleton key lock wasn’t much of a challenge.

  Lachlan passed her a tiny penlight and pointed at the keyhole. Dropping to a catcher’s stance, Jane shone the narrow beam of light in the center of the hole.

  It took less than a minute for Lachlan to spring the lock. After reclaiming the penlight and pulling a knife with a black blade from the holster strapped to his belt, Lachlan opened the door. He and Jane slipped into the cold, damp space and quickly shut the door behind them.

  She and Lachlan stood very still in the darkness and listened.

  The blackness was thick, permeated only by the gurgle of the water in the Bacchus fountain as well as the fainter sound of running water. Jane assumed this murmur came from the trio of fish fountains in the center of the esplanade. For a brief moment, Jane was lulled by the sleepy, rhythmic sound of water.

  Lachlan touched her elbow, and she jumped. He gave her a reassuring squeeze and the space was suddenly flooded with blue-tinted light. Lachlan held a small camping lantern in one hand while proffering a second to Jane. She took it and began sweeping the light over the walls and floor. She saw only rough stone.

  Jane and Lachlan walked along the cold corridor, searching for the smallest irregularity that could represent a secret door. With the uneven stones and the variation of hues over the walls and ground, it seemed an impossible task.

  Luckily, Jane had Landon Lachlan. Her Fin’s greatest asset was his tracking ability. He could find a broken branch or a blade of trampled grass and know precisely which direction his quarry had taken. When he plucked something from the ground, Jane paused to look at his discovery. He raised a piece of gravel in front of the lantern before continuing forward at a snail’s pace, his eyes locked on the ground.

  Though Jane was dying to ask what he was searching for, she kept her mouth shut. Any noise would echo in this dank corridor, and she didn’t want to be discovered because she hadn’t stayed silent.

  A few minutes passed before Lachlan picked up another pebble. And another. He said nothing, but Jane could sense his excitement. His body was practically quivering with energy.

  Finally, he stopped and raised the lantern over his head. Shadows leaped over the walls as he studied each side of the passageway. Next, he moved the light over the floor.

  Jane added her light to his. She had no idea what trail Lachlan was following, and she was about to move on when he seized her hand. Pulling her down into a crouch, Lachlan pointed at a crack in the stone.

  It looked utterly unremarkable, and Jane shrugged to show Lachlan that she didn’t understand why it was important.

  Lachlan held his hand, palm side up, in front of her. He then let it drop as if it were an elevator cab cut loose from a cable.

  Or a slab of stone that can fall away from the surrounding slabs, Jane thought, her eyes shining with hope.

  She pointed to the ground. Lachlan nodded.

  How? Jane mouthed, and Lachlan began tracing the uneven crack with his fingertip. As he did so, Jane noticed how the crack ran all the way around the stone.

  A hidden entrance, Jane thought and examined the wall more closely. There had to be some sort of lever or button that would release the slab. But where?

  Jane tried to imagine how a Templar would construct a secret opening. She thought of the diary Edwin had let her read—of its descriptions of modern Templar practices. The contemporary Templars liked to blend centuries-old traditions with state-of-the-art technology. The rogue Templars, as Edwin called the faction that had split from his, were little more than criminals. They stole, kidnapped, blackmailed, and committed murder to acquire knowledge. To them, knowledge was power and was to be obtained at any cost.

  This splinter cell also romanticized their roots. They no longer devoted themselves to the Church, gave away their possessions, or vowed to protect the weak and defenseless. However, they still conducted certain age-old rites and rituals established by the original Templars.

  One of these traditions involved communicating in Latin. It was the language of their order, even more so than the French spoken by their founding father, Hugh de Payens.

  Inspired by what she knew about contemporary Templars, Jane turned off the signal-jamming device. She then took out her cell phone and sent Sinclair a text. She prayed the message would go through and that Sinclair would send a hasty reply. The light from her phone screen caught Lachlan’s attention, and he came over to see what she was doing. She pivoted the screen, allowing him to read the query she’d sent to Storyton Hall’s head librarian.

  “It fits their profile of arrogance and exclusivity,” Sinclair wrote back without delay. “You might have to try more than one of the following phrases. If it’s a voice-activated door, the first or second phrase should do the trick. If the lock requires voice recognition, I’m afraid you won’t succeed, no matter how precise your Latin.”

  Jane had seen her sons cross their fingers when they wanted a wish to come true. Figuring it couldn’t hurt, she crossed hers and said, “Aperi!”

  Nothing happened.

  “Maybe it only recognizes male voices,” she whispered to Lachlan.

  Lachlan repeated the word to no avail.

  Jane read the second phrase on Sinclair’s list. This phrase was referenced in the Book of Revelation. It meant, “to break the seal.”

  Jane believed the combination of Latin and Scripture might be exactly what was needed, but saying, “Apero Sigillum!” produced no results.

  The tomb-like dark of the stone space gnawed at Jane’s hope. She clung to the last of it, though, and signaled for Lachlan to give the phrase a try.

  In a clear, commanding voice, he repeated the phrase.

  From somewhere behind the wall, a mechanism rumbled. The slab with the jagged crack around its perimeter began to sink.

  Lachlan held out his knife and tensed, ready to spring.

  The rumbling stopped, and he peered down into the aperture.

  “Turn the jamming device back on,” he whispered. “And wait here.”

  Jane followed half of his instructions. She switched on the device, but when she noticed how small lights embedded in the top step blazed to life under Lachlan’s weight, she descended right behind him.

  The narrow staircase led them down to
another dark and damp passage. The moment Jane cleared the last step, the slab over their heads slid into its original position with a thud. Jane and Lachlan were entombed in the subterranean corridor.

  At least, Jane assumed it was a corridor. Her suspicion was immediately confirmed when a row of wall sconces bloomed into life, illuminating the length of the passageway with a surprisingly bright light.

  Lachlan touched her arm and pointed at the ground. A crimson runner covered the stones. The runner led to a dead end. On that dead-end wall was an enormous, blood-red Templar cross.

  Seeing the symbol, Jane had to clamp her hand over her mouth.

  Edwin! The cry rose inside her throat, but she held it back.

  Her eyes moved from the cross to the row of doors lining the corridor. Unlike the door leading inside the esplanade, these were made of metal and what looked to be speakeasy grilles. A small door covered every speakeasy grille, so there was no way to know for sure what was concealed in each room unless she opened the speakeasy doors.

  Moving to the closest one, Jane cast a quick glance at Lachlan. He was coiled like a snake, his knife held in the ready position. Jane opened the door covering the speakeasy grille. The grille wasn’t easy to see through, but Jane was able to view a spartan room containing a cot, a table and chair, and a primitive toilet.

  She mouthed the word “empty” and headed for the next room.

  Lachlan continued to watch the corridor while Jane opened the next speakeasy door. And the next.

  The feeling that she was running out of doors, time, and hope slowed Jane’s movements. She opened another door, expecting to see yet another vacant room.

  This room, however, was occupied.

  And its occupant was the man Jane had been searching for.

  She’d found Edwin Alcott.

  Edwin flew from the table where he’d been bent over a book and shoved his fingers through the grille.

  “Jane.” He spoke her name like a man, dying of thirst, who’d been given a glass of the purest, sweetest spring water.