Stipulations and Complications

by Becki Willis

  Nick reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered along her cheek.

  “I worry you may be in danger,” he confided.

  Her heart thumped at his tender gesture, but Madison never hesitated. “Brash will keep me safe,” she said with confidence. She knew that to be true.

  “He may want to, but can he?” Nick challenged. “He hasn’t been a police officer all that long, Madison. He’s a football player. A coach. He may be a force to reckon with on the field, but how effective is he against criminals? He and his men shut us down for three days, so they could do a thorough search of this cellar. They obviously didn’t do such a good job.”

  Madison pulled away from his touch, wanting to be free of his accusations. Free of the doubt he tried to plant within her.

  “Like you pointed out, you and your team of experts missed it, too, while doing your structural examination. So let’s just agree to keep it quiet for now.”

  Clearly displeased, the carpenter gave a jerky nod. “For now,” he agreed. “But you’d better call your chief of police and get him down here. If this is going to cause another delay, I need to know about it now. At the rate we’re going, we’ll never make our October deadline.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Maddy hurried past the cameras and waited until she was in the seclusion of her car before calling Brash.

  “deCordova,” he barked into her ear.

  She faltered. “Bad timing?”

  He answered with a sigh. “You could say. There was a fender-bender in the Gas ‘n Go parking lot. The out-of-towner is squawking for a lawyer and a neck brace, and the local jokel is showing definite signs of being high. I have a city council meeting in an hour and two reports to finish up before I go.”

  “Then I won’t keep you. There was something I needed to tell you, but it can wait.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You have your hands full enough without this.”

  “Sounds pretty important. How about I stop by the house this evening? Maybe I’ll be caught up by then, but I doubt it.”

  “That sounds fine.” She hesitated for only a moment, then ventured, “Why-Why don’t you come for supper?”

  “Are you sure? I thought we were incognito.” She could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

  “It’s just supper. We all have to eat, right?”

  He wasn’t fooled by her deliberately casual reply. “Right. Listen, sweetheart, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  She loved it when he called her sweetheart. It brightened the dismal shadow cast upon her day after discovering the tunnel. “Okay. Be safe out there.”

  ***

  She may have called it ‘only supper,’ but they both knew it was sort of a trial run. If Bethani was receptive to Brash being there, it might lead to other dinners and, eventually — hopefully — to dating. And if she wasn’t…

  Madison refused to think of that, even when she saw the stricken look upon her daughter’s face when she announced they would be having a dinner guest.

  “You have a date?” the girl practically hissed. “Mother, how could you!”

  “It’s-It’s not a date,” Madison was quick to say. “Brash is coming over to discuss the case. While he’s here, he might as well eat dinner with us.”

  “But you put on makeup and fixed your hair!”

  “I did both of those this morning, Beth, before I left for the day.”

  “That is fresh makeup and fresh perfume,” the girl insisted adamantly.

  “Okay, so I freshened up. I did last night, too, before we went out to eat.”

  “But you’re wearing even better clothes tonight than you did last night,” she wailed.

  “Yeah, well, apparently I wasn’t dressed so well last night.” The server’s comments still smarted. And she had even been wearing one of her favorite outfits.

  “Can’t you go change?”

  Madison glanced down, almost afraid to ask. “Why? What’s wrong with this outfit?”

  “Nothing! That olive green looks really good with your coloring. Those khaki capris make your legs look long and lean, and that blouse makes you look boobier. Seriously, this is one of your better-looking outfits, Mom.”

  With an amused look on her face, Madison questioned, “Boobier?”

  “Let’s face it, Mom, you took after Granny Bert in the boobs department, not Happy. But this blouse makes you look… you know, boobier.” She used her hands to indicate a fuller bosom.

  Madison laughed outright, hugging her daughter with a spurt of delight. “Oh, Bethani, you are priceless!”

  “I’m serious, Mom,” the girl grumbled. “You shouldn’t look so hot tonight. You’ll give Mr. de the idea that you’re interested.”

  It was the perfect lead-in. “Would that be so terrible, honey, if I was interested?” she asked softly.

  “Terrible?” the girl echoed, her face crumbling. “It would be humiliating!”

  Feeling as if she had been kicked in the stomach, Madison tried to disguise her dismay. “And why is that, sweetheart?”

  “Be-Because!” she sputtered. “Just because! Because Daddy has only been gone a few weeks! It would be a disgrace to his memory. And because Megan is my best friend! How awkward would that be, if our parents hooked up?”

  “Some best friends might think that was pretty cool,” Madison suggested, “having their parents get together.”

  “Until their parents broke up!” she said with heavy melodrama. “Then they’d have to choose sides, and then their friendship would be ruined. Best friends one minute, mortal enemies the next!”

  Madison dared not ask what would happen if the parents did not break up. What if it was an ever-after kind of love, the kind she suspected she already had with Brash? She wisely kept her thoughts to herself, even though her heart was breaking.

  “Beth, I think you’re being a tad bit—”

  “Just tell me this isn’t a date!” the teen broke in.

  “This isn’t a date.”

  “I don’t believe you. This is terrible, just terrible!”

  “Wait, honey, where are you going?”

  “To my room. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite!”

  Madison watched in stunned silence as the teen flounced down the hall, blond hair swinging adamantly in her wake. She was still staring after her daughter when the doorbell rang.

  “Are you going to get that?” Granny Bert called from the kitchen.

  “Uhm, sure.” She made her way to the front door, her heart fluttering when she saw the handsome man on the other side of the threshold.

  His eyes lit with appreciation when he saw her. “New blouse?” he murmured, eyes lingering on her ‘boobier’ silhouette. “I like.”

  The warm words slid over her, creating a thrill. Her laugh was only marginally forced as she pushed the argument with Bethani from her mind.

  “Come on in, Brash. Supper’s almost ready.”

  “You really didn’t have to feed me, Maddy,” he said. Then he gave her a heart-melting grin. “But I’m sure glad you are.”

  This time, her laughter was genuine. “Wait until you taste it first. Blake is such an indiscriminate eater I sometimes forget to test my culinary skills.”

  Ten minutes later, they gathered around the dining room table. Granny Bert looked at the empty chair beside Blake and asked, “Where’s Bethani?”

  Madison sighed. “She’s not in a very hospitable mood this evening. I believe she decided she wasn’t very hungry.”

  “Seemed okay earlier,” Granny Bert said with shrewd observation.

  Blake was clearly unconcerned about his twin. “More for me,” he grinned.

  Brash’s forehead gathered in a wrinkle. “Is my being here a problem, Maddy?” he asked quietly.

  “You’re raising a teenage daughter, Brash. You should be familiar with the mood swings. Perfect angel one minute, complete monster the next.” Madison tried to make light of the situation, even though he
r heart smarted. How could she be happy in a relationship with Brash, knowing her daughter was miserable?

  This is never going to work, she moped. Too many stipulations and complications.

  The conversation remained light throughout the meal. Blake offered comic relief and kept the adults in stitches. His re-telling of Granny Bert’s Ebola act was so hilarious that even Madison had to laugh.

  After supper, they all helped with the dishes and Blake carried a plate to his sister’s room, while the adults settled around the table for coffee and serious conversation.

  “So what did you want to tell me about, Maddy?” Brash asked. When he turned his eyes upon her, they lingered longer than necessary.

  She warmed beneath his gaze, struggling to remember the topic that seemed so urgent earlier. “Nick called me down to the house today. He made another discovery.”

  “Another hidden room?” Brash asked in exasperation. “This is getting ridiculous!”

  Instead of answering directly, she addressed her grandmother. “Granny Bert, what do you remember about the cellar when you were younger?”

  The old woman shrugged. “Like I said before, not all that much. We were never allowed to play down there. They said it was too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Brash asked.

  “I suppose with the cistern and all. And the fire. I still remember the days when laundry was done by hand. Miss Lily, Hank’s grandma, insisted the only way to get the linens clean was to boil them. She insisted on using the old methods of a fire and cast iron pot. She eventually used the wringer-style machine, but it wasn’t much safer. Hardly a place for children.”

  Brash nodded as if he understood, even though the concept of boiling laundry was foreign to him. He barely had mastered the concept of separating the whites from the colors. He owned more than one pair of dingy underwear and bleach-spotted jeans.

  Her turned back to Madison. “Why all the questions? What did you find?” he asked impatiently.

  Again, she addressed her grandmother. “You know how we were discussing the tunnels last night? You said there were several in this area.”

  “That’s what I hear. Only saw the one for myself, but folks say there are several.”

  Brash broke in. “You mean the sewer tunnels?”

  “No, the bootlegging tunnels.” Madison shot her grandmother a stern look.

  “That’s just old folklore.” Brash would have brushed the statement away, until he saw the look that passed between the two women. His brow furrowed. “Isn’t it?”

  Madison crossed her arms in a prim gesture. “Someone I won’t name — although she’s sitting in this very room — assures me she has firsthand knowledge of the existence, and use, of said tunnels.”

  Brash hiked an eyebrow in surprise. “Granny? You were a bootlegger?”

  “Depends. You asking as a lawman or a friend?”

  His laughter was rich and definitely amused. “A friend.”

  “Then maybe I traveled down a tunnel a time or two, making a run.”

  Before the conversation could get too far off track, Madison brought it back around with her stunning announcement. “We discovered a new tunnel today. New to us, anyway. From the looks of it, it has been around for quite a few years.”

  “Where is that?”

  “In the cellar of the Big House.”

  For once in her life, her grandmother was rendered speechless. Even Brash had no immediate response.

  “I beg your pardon?” Bertha Cessna finally sputtered. “My hearing must be going. I could have sworn you said in Miss Juliet’s cellar.”

  “I did. It leads from the far corner of the house, out to the railroad trestle on the edge of town.”

  “That’s quite a way,” Brash noted. Madison had expected him to pepper her with questions, but he was oddly quiet, his dark eyes thoughtful.

  “I can’t believe there was a tunnel down there and I never knew it! Why, even though we were told not to, Hank, Jubal and I sneaked down there more’n once. Are you saying we walked right past a tunnel entrance and never even saw it?”

  “It’s covered by a wall. Or a door, I suppose it is. The entire thing is very well constructed and reinforced with brick.”

  Granny Bert shook her head with a ‘tsk, tsk,’ clearly disgusted with her own lack of observation. “And we thought we were so smart, sneaking down there and playing in all those rooms. We liked to play pirates. Some explorers we were, too blind to see what was right before our very eyes!”

  “So you had no idea there was a tunnel down there?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “What about Miss Juliet?” Brash asked.

  “I doubt it. I don’t recall her ever going down there. She always sent servants, even to fetch the wine for special occasions.”

  “I’ve found something new in the journals,” Madison said, her voice edged with excitement. For the first time, she felt like they were close to solving the puzzle of the skeleton. “Now more than ever, I believe Miss Juliet knew nothing about the secret staircase, nor the secret room. I think Clarence was a sick man, obsessed with a woman who thought of him only as a friend. I think he built the tunnel, so that he could slip in and out at will and spy on Miss Juliet.”

  Brash did not seem convinced. “That’s rather drastic, don’t you think, building a tunnel when he could have just used the outside entrance?”

  She told them of the journal entries and how Clarence had simply disappeared in the summer of ‘22.

  “I suppose we could test the skeleton for a DNA match to Hank Adams or one of his off-spring,” Brash thought aloud. “See if anything pops.”

  “I agree with Brash,” Granny Bert said. “Sounds pretty drastic, even for a nutcase like this Clarence fella.”

  “But what other reason could there be for a secret tunnel?” She spread her palms upward in a sign of frustration. Then she glanced at Brash. “What? I see that look. You’re thinking something, aren’t you?”

  “I’m just thinking.”

  “No, you’re onto something, I can tell!”

  “It’s just a theory, mind you.”

  Granny Bert saw the same light in his eyes. “Yes, yes, spit it out.” She used impatient hand movements to move him along.

  “From what I understand, the cellar had a cistern as a water supply. Plenty of copper tubing, too. A heat source for boiling laundry. Plenty of nooks and crannies, not to mention a secret room and a hidden tunnel.”

  Granny Bert’s eyes glittered with excitement. “All the things needed to make moonshine!” she surmised.

  Madison, however, was appalled. “What are you saying? That Miss Juliet was operating an illegal still, right in her very own cellar?”

  “I never mentioned Miss Juliet.”

  “That’s-That’s even more insane! You think it was someone else, operating it under her nose? Right here in town, in the cellar of the city’s most prestigious home?”

  “You know what they say, hide in plain sight and no one sees you.”

  “But that’s crazy!”

  “About as crazy as a brick-lined tunnel and a hand-dug room.”

  His words gave her pause. Madison frowned as she considered them.

  “It would have been the perfect set-up,” Granny Bert mused. “They had everything they needed right there. They could have brought the corn in through the tunnel, literally by the trainload.”

  “And smuggled the finished product out the same way. The tunnel leads right to the train track, where it could have been loaded and shipped to parts unknown.”

  “But who would have done such a thing?” Madison posed the question to no one in particular.

  “Could have been anyone. Maybe it was someone who worked for her. Or someone with a twisted sense of justice. Miss Juliet offended a lot of people with her highfalutin ways.”

  “But the servants would have seen. Great-Grandma Rose would have seen!”

  Granny shrugged. “I’m telling you girl, times were h
ard. Folks did what they had to survive.”

  “But your mother…”

  “Who do you think sent me out to deliver the ‘shine, girl? I did my fair share in making a living for the family. No one suspected a little girl with an elfish smile and braids in her hair.” Her grandmother flashed a smile that still looked young and mischievous, and completely guileless. Madison, however, knew better.

  Overwhelmed and completely frustrated, Madison slapped her hands onto the table and stood. She ranted quietly as she paced the room. “I can’t believe this. My own grandmother was a bootlegger. The woman who taught me right from wrong grew up breaking the law. There are secret passages and hidden rooms in the house I’m going to live in, and now we discover a hidden tunnel! I have ghosts and unwanted visitors and a mystery that just keeps unwinding. And cameras! Cameras are everywhere, recording every little thing I do and say. I think I’m going insane. Definitely having a nervous breakdown. Maybe a heart attack. Maybe both. Who knows? Maybe there’s a hidden cemetery down there, too, and they can just toss my body in with the rest of them.”

  Before Madison could come fully unwound, Granny Bert disappeared into the kitchen and came back out, thrusting a wine bottle into Brash’s hands.

  “Here. Take her out on the porch and calm her down.”

  Madison stopped her rant long enough to stab her grandmother with a hard look. “I’m not a child that needs to be mollycoddled, you know.”

  “If you were a child, I wouldn’t be sending you out with wine. The night’s still young,” Granny Bert said, a devilish grin stealing over her features. “I’m headed to my room to watch some television. I won’t hear a thing. Blake has his music playing and Bethani is bound to be buried in her phone. You two go on out and enjoy yourselves. The backyard might offer more privacy,” she suggested pointedly.

  Still keyed up, Madison snapped, “We’re not teenagers, Granny. I think we can control our baser instincts.”

  Beside her, Brash offered a charming but maddening grin. “Speak for yourself.”