Loved From The Grave

by Maggie Carpenter

  "Here! Help me. I'm here."

  He had heard her distant wail, but he couldn't determine from which direction her cry had come.

  "Where are you?"

  "Around the side."

  She sounded frantic, and running past the house, he bolted around the corner, immediately spying the busted gate.

  "April?"

  "I'm behind the gate."

  Kicking out more of the rotten wood, he climbed through, and spotted the path of trampled brush.

  "I'm coming. Hang on."

  Seconds later he came across her face down, caught in an octopus of sticks, tree limbs and thick branches.

  "Are you all right? What the bloody hell happened?"

  "The door," she managed, as he began carefully extricating her from the tangled mess.

  "What door?"

  "It's behind you."

  Pausing to turn and follow her gaze, he saw the padlock and metal plate hanging from the heavy wooden door.

  "I opened it, and…"

  "And what?" he pressed, helping her to stand up.

  "A skeleton."

  "You saw a skeleton? No wonder you screamed."

  "It was dark and I turned on my phone. It was inches from my face. When I ran out I tripped and landed in that mess. Then I couldn't get out."

  "You're shaking. Take a deep breath. That's it. Other than being scared, are you okay?"

  "Apart from a heart attack and being covered in scratches, I guess so. My phone. I dropped it."

  "I'll get it for you. Wait right there."

  "My legs are all wobbly. I'm not going anywhere."

  "I'll be as quick as I can."

  "You warned me," she mumbled under her breath as he stepped away. "I should have listened."

  Reaching the door, Jonathan managed to push it open a foot or so further, and sidling in through the narrow space, he shone his powerful pocket flashlight into the darkness. Even though he'd been expecting to see it, the sight of the skeleton made him catch his breath, but what he spotted behind it sent his heart racing. He wanted to venture forward, but he needed to get April back to the house. Quickly finding her phone, he dropped it into his pocket and headed back to her.

  "I have it," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I think a nice cup of tea is called for, and I need to get forensics here. Who warned you?"

  "What?"

  "I thought I heard you say someone warned you not to go in."

  "My instinct. I went against my instinct," she said hastily.

  But Jonathan knew she was lying.

  He knew exactly what she'd meant.

  It explained how she'd found the ridge behind the paint cans in the wall, and why she'd felt the need to sit on the bottom step of the stairs at a time when the sun would shine on the tiny gold bar.

  Troy was speaking to her from beyond the grave.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  April could feel her heart settling. Jonathan had helped her through the hole in the gate, then suggested she stop for a minute and catch her breath. He was right. Being out of the scary enclosed space she was able to settle, and though her hands were stinging from the scratches, her curiosity was beginning to mushroom. They made their way to the house, and walking in the kitchen door, she settled into a chair while he set the kettle to boil.

  "I have to know about that room," she declared. "What do you think it means? Who would leave a body there?"

  "Both good questions," he said, returning to pluck dried leaves from her hair, "and here's another one. What were you thinking, going into a pitch black room like that by yourself?"

  "The minute I saw the padlock on the door I couldn't stop myself. It was so captivating. All the overgrown brush and ancient hinges, yet a new steel plate and padlock? It was impossible to resist."

  "I can understand the temptation. Hold still."

  Dropping his hand to her shoulder, he suddenly grabbed it, then walked across to the sink and ran the water.

  "Please don't tell me that was a spider you sent down the drain."

  "Okay, I won't, but I think you might want to change your clothes and take a shower."

  "Ugh, you're right," she groaned, running her hand through her hair. "I'm totally grimy."

  "There'll be a cup of tea waiting."

  "Tea. Every five minutes, tea," she exclaimed as she rose to her feet.

  "You're in the English countryside. We live on tea, scones, and beer, but mostly tea. It's medicine for the frazzled soul. Don't you know that?"

  "I do. Tea is the answer to all that ails you, and the funny thing is, it usually works. I'm heading upstairs, but Jonathan, I'm sorry for all the trouble, and thank you for rescuing me."

  "I'm just glad you're okay."

  As she walked away, he moved across to the cellar door. He needed to tell Jake about the skeleton and let them know April was okay, but as he started down the stairs, he was brought to a quick halt.

  "Stop," Jake called. "Don't come down here. It looks like your victim was attacked when he was standing at the electric box, somehow managed to get away and made it up the steps. We found blood on the floor, and a trail up to the kitchen."

  "Do you think they finished him off at the bottom of the staircase in the foyer?"

  "Not sure yet, but Alex is hunting for blood in the living room right now. What was the scream about? Did you find Mrs. Hammond?"

  "Yes, I was on my way down to tell you, and I have more news. Your job just got a whole lot bigger. You need to come up to the kitchen when you're done."

  "We're almost done with what we were working on. Getting into that wall comes next. Is it urgent?"

  "Would you call a skeleton urgent?"

  "Shit. Okay. I'll be right there."

  Returning to the kitchen, Jonathan began to pace, then turned off the boiling kettle. He had a feeling April had just discovered Pandora's Box.

  "Dan's going to finish up for me," Jake said, appearing through the cellar door. "What's this about a skeleton?"

  "We have a second location," Jonathan replied as Jake removed his protective shoe coverings.

  "Lead on."

  Moving out the kitchen door, he started past the house, then turned the corner and walked quickly up to the hole in the gate.

  "Where are we going?" Jake asked as Jonathan climbed through the hole in the gate.

  "Just a short way through this brush," Jonathan replied. "There! That door. As you walk in you'll see a skeleton. It's literally sitting in a chair, but that's not all. When I shone my torch behind it I saw an absolute treasure trove, and if my bearings are right, the room is on the other side of that wall in the cellar."

  "Damn," Jake muttered. "How did you find this?"

  "I didn't, April did. That's why she screamed. She got the door open, and was suddenly face to face with a skull."

  "No wonder she let out a howl. That would've scared the crap out of anyone. Poor woman. I suppose I'd better take a look, though I wouldn't be able to work in there until this area is cleared."

  "As I said, I'm fairly certain that room backs up to the wall in the cellar. You'll be able to reach it through there."

  "Sure would be a whole lot easier. Will you give me a hand? See if we can get this door open a bit more?"

  "You bet."

  Even with them both pushing, they only managed to open it a few feet, and it was Jake who entered first.

  "This is crazy," he mumbled, shining his powerful beam through the room. "I've never seen anything like this. Have you detective?"

  "Not even close, and it's hard to tell how far back this room goes."

  "Hey, take a look at this," Jake said, turning his attention to the skull of the skeleton.

  "Bloody hell. You've got to be kidding me. That's going to make your job a whole lot less complicated."

  "This is like a pirate's cave," Jake said with a grin.

  "This house," Jonathan muttered, "just how many secrets does it have?"

  "Enough to kill for," Jake said solem
nly.

  "Apparently so."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  April was covered with tiny sticks and dried leaves, and peeling off her clothes, she stuffed them into a plastic bag to take to the cleaners. As she gratefully stepped into the shower, she closed her eyes and let the hot water stream across her body. Convinced her hair was full of bugs, not caring about how it stung, she poured a generous amount of shampoo into her hands and vigorously rubbed it into a foamy lather. Finally rinsing it out, she leaned against the wall and let out a heavy sigh.

  "I should have listened to you," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Troy. I will next time."

  Turning off the water, she left the stall, wrapped her hair in a towel, and briskly dried herself off. She felt better, though she wondered how long the horrific image of the skeleton would stay in her head. Moving into the bedroom to dress, it took her a minute to realize the drapes were open again, and dropping on to the bed she broke into a smile.

  "Troy, when you came to me in my sleep you said you were getting stronger. I hope that means you'll actually be able to talk to me soon. Are you around other, uh, people who have passed over? I was going to call you a ghost, but it didn't seem right. I hope you can hear me. I feel that you can. I'm going to believe that you can."

  Ambling across to her closet, she pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and a shirt, then sat at her dresser and combed out her wet hair. As she reached for her moisturizer she dropped her eyes, but when she looked back in the mirror, for the flash of a second she saw him. He used to sit on the bed behind, and he'd often step up, gently push away her hair and kiss her neck. Heart suddenly pumping, she tilted her head to the side, combed her long wet locks out of the way, and closed her eyes.

  "Please?" she whispered. "Please let me feel your lips?" Holding her breath, silently begging, she waited. The seconds ticked by, but she refused to give up. "I know you can do it. I know you can. I don't have to be sleeping."

  As a tiny puff touched her skin, heat filled her throat, and a rogue tear slipped from her eye.

  "See. I told you. I don't need to be asleep. Is it because you're worried I'll be scared? How could I ever be scared of you?"

  Though she was sniffling, a deep calm was filling her soul. She sank into the feeling, then slowly rose to her feet, and walking across the room, she touched her lips to the daffodils.

  "See you soon, my lovelies."

  Walking out into the hall, she reached the top of the stairs only to find them taped off, and one of the forensic team on his hands and knees halfway up.

  "Excuse me."

  "Sorry," he said raising his head. "I didn't realize you were up here."

  "Can I get back down?"

  "Sure, but please put these over your shoes," he said, climbing to the top and handing her a pair of blue booties. "I'm Steve by the way."

  "Hi, Steve. I'm April. I've been up and down these stairs constantly since, uh, I found my husband. Does it really matter at this point?"

  "I know it seems redundant, but I have to do things by the book."

  "Sorry, of course you do. Have you found anything?"

  "I can't discuss that. You'll have to ask the detective."

  "I didn't mean to put you on the spot," she said apologetically as she slipped the thin blue covering over her ballet slippers.

  "Walk carefully. They can be slippery."

  "Thanks for the warning."

  "By the way, you can't go through the living room. Is there another way to get where you're going?"

  "Yes, no problem."

  Moving cautiously down the stairs, she followed the hallway to the dining room, and entering the kitchen she found Jonathan pouring boiling water into the teapot.

  "Perfect timing," he declared. "Are you feeling better?"

  "Much, but I still want that cup of tea."

  "I have some good news."

  "The fact that you have good news is good news in itself."

  "That skeleton! It wasn't real, but someone went to a great deal of trouble to make it look that way."

  "Why?"

  "Take a seat," he said solemnly, picking up the teapot and bringing it to the table. "I need to talk to you. I wasn't out of bounds discussing things with you before, but I've opened the case now. It's a murder inquiry."

  "Are you saying you won't be able to tell me anything?"

  "Certain things, officially, yes."

  "Unofficially?"

  "It will be difficult for me to hold back anything."

  "I swear I won't repeat a single word you tell me."

  "I don't doubt that, but if anything should go wrong and you're questioned, I don't want you to lie for me."

  "But—"

  "April, you mustn't lie to the police, not to protect me, or for any other reason. I don't expect anything will go wrong, but none of us has a crystal ball. Do you promise?"

  "Okay. Yes, if questioned I won't lie, but I won't volunteer anything either."

  "Thank you. Are you ready to hear what we've learned so far?"

  "Absolutely."

  "It appears your husband was attacked in the cellar, and I believe he was lured down there."

  "You think that's why the lights went out."

  "Exactly. Troy went down to check the fuses and was ambushed. Somehow he managed to get away, and he was either attacked a second time and dragged to the foot of the stairs, or he may have collapsed there."

  "This is horrible. Why would anyone want to hurt him?"

  "What was the motive? I think you found it."

  "Me? You mean that room?"

  "When the forensic investigator and I went into that dark, mysterious room, we discovered a large collection of artwork, and that room backs into the cellar. It's impossible to know how much he'd figured out, but Troy moved those boxes for a reason."

  "And someone had already done that. They'd found everything, either through that door, or breaking through the wall and covering it back up. When Troy moved the boxes they assumed he was going to do what they did. Open up the wall."

  "That's my guess."

  "Why didn't they just take everything? Why leave it there?"

  "You're assuming there wasn't more. What we found may be the last of it, who knows, but when they heard you and Troy were arriving they had to close it up. I also have another theory, one that will be difficult to hear."

  "It's okay. I want you to tell me everything. Theories, ideas, facts, everything."

  "If you're sure."

  "I am. Very sure."

  "I think they believed, if they murdered your husband, you'd be too scared and traumatized to stay."

  "You were right. That is hard to hear," she groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "I can't believe any of this is happening."

  "I'm sorry, April."

  "It's all so senseless."

  "Murder always is," he said gravely. "That's what makes it so hard to take. This tea should be well-drawn by now. Have a cup."

  "Again with the tea."

  "As I mentioned earlier, it soothes the frazzled soul," he said, pouring the hot amber liquid into her cup. "Are you a converted coffee drinker?"

  "How did you know?"

  "Most Americans are. I enjoy a good cup of coffee, but when things are sticky there's nothing like a cup of tea."

  "I've learned that," she remarked, pouring in milk and adding sugar. "I don't think I could live without it now."

  "April, whoever is behind all this must be someone who's familiar with the house. My people are researching the family, Ned, his nephew George, Maude and Emily. Did you make that list? Who am I missing?"

  "Only the garden supply place, and they just delivered the plants."

  Pausing to sip his tea, he frowned, then leaned across the table.

  "April," he began, lowering his voice, "I am now concerned about your safety. I'm not sure you should stay here."

  "Sorry, detective, I'm not going anywhere," she said fiercely. "I know how to shoot a gun, and I own one. I'll pu
t it under my pillow."

  "I thought you might say that. Very well. Since I can't guarantee a constable outside your door twenty-four hours a day, how would you feel about me staying in one of the guest rooms?"

  "You'd do that?"

  "Word will soon leak out a murder inquiry has been opened. Whoever is responsible could panic, and even if they don't, I believe they are desperate to get their hands on what's in that room. They've already proven they'll kill to do it, and I can't let you stay here by yourself. You either need to leave, or allow me to stay. Making any other decision would be inviting trouble."

  "If I leave, that's an invitation for them to come back, and if you don't catch them, how will I ever be able to return? They might want everything in here."

  "That's true. We can only go by what we know."

  "Then it's a no-brainer. There's a room on this floor, and one upstairs."

  "Then I'll stay down here. Good. I'm glad that's settled."

  "Detective?" Jake said, appearing in the cellar doorway. "We're about to cut into the wall."

  CHAPTER SIX

  As Jake disappeared back through the cellar door, April stared earnestly at Jonathan, her unspoken question hanging in the air.

  "You don't have to say it," Jonathan said, shaking his head. "You want to watch."

  "I have a right to know what's behind that wall. Put yourself in my place. Wouldn't you insist on being there? I could always walk around the side of the house and—"

  "Stop, stop, I know when I'm beaten," he declared, raising his hands. "Let me ask Jake if you need to suit up."

  "Thank you."

  While he walked across the kitchen and poked his head through the cellar door, she stared out the window at the gravestone in the distance.

  "Am I doing the right thing letting him stay?" she whispered. "I don't want to leave here, and he's right. I can't be here by myself right now, but it feels weird."

  "You can come down, but keep the booties on. Be careful, they can be—"

  "Slippery. Yes, I know."

  Following him down the steps, she saw a man dressed in protective clothing slicing through the ridge she'd found using an electric saw.