by Molly Greene
“Who would hide this stuff here?” Anna asked.
“Better than a cookie jar,” Genny said. “I wonder what the significance of the picture is.”
“I hate to think she fought for Germany,” Madison said sadly. “There has to be more to the story.”
They heard the sound of boots on the stair, followed by a bellowed, “Madison!”
She walked to the doorway. “Here.”
“We need some direction,” Hodge said. “Cabinet’s ready to come out.”
She turned to the girls. “Will you pack up the clothes for me?” She waved and took the stairs two at a time.
Downstairs, Seeley and Hodge each had a shoulder against the sideboard and were trying to shake it free of the plaster.
“Tight fit,” Seeley said. “We might have to take a little rock down.”
“Try this.” Hodge opened the lower right door, hooked his fist inside, and shoved a heavy work boot against the plaster. Seeley followed suit. On the count of three, they pulled and applied leverage to the wall. Seconds later, they felt it budge and let out a cheer.
The eight-foot cabinet moved freely toward them.
Seeley slipped behind the unit.
“How does it look back there?” Madison asked.
“Good.”
Madison peered behind the sideboard. A skinny corridor ran between the stone and a false plastered wall beneath the staircase. The wall wasn’t solid. It housed a passageway.
But to where?
Seeley put up a hand to shield his eyes from the light as he re-emerged. “Cool,” he said. “Nothing to see, though.”
He smiled and shrugged. “The builder probably had other intentions here. Maybe the homeowners changed their minds and installed this piece after the house was built.”
Gesturing to Hodge, they rolled the cabinet into the dining room, then returned to inspect the stone.
Gen burst in, her face lit with excitement.
Anna followed. “Gen, wait–”
She either didn’t hear or didn’t care to stop. “You won’t believe what else we found,” she cried, gulping air, winded from the stairs. She held up a metal object.
“Another damn key.”
* * *
Madison urged Anna and Gen up to her bedroom and tried to plug the key into the locked box. “Rats, it doesn’t fit,” she said.
“I was trying to get you to shut up about the key, Gen,” Anna said. “But you stomped out of the attic so fast, babbling away, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I’m not sure you should’ve broadcast this to everyone.”
“What everyone? There was only Hodge and Madison and–”
“Seeley.” Anna finished her sentence.
Genny looked confused. “I’m not following.”
Anna sat down on the bed. “Something’s been bugging me since this morning. I figured it out right when you went down the stairs.”
“What does Seeley have to do with anything?”
“The guy in the ski mask who crashed our party. I came out of the house when he was running away. It was him, I’m sure of it. Seeley was Skeleton Man.”
Madison opened her mouth to protest, but shut it without a word.
“A red flag went up when I saw him today,” Anna said. “His height is right. And his build is, too, from what we could see of him that night. And his shoulders, the way they drop away from his neck like that. The guy in that costume didn’t have any shoulders, either.”
“I’m so naïve,” Madison said. “He lives right next door. How convenient.”
“Yeah,” Genny said. “Damn, why didn’t I figure that out?”
“Because you didn’t see him that night,” Madison said. “Am I dumb, or what? I let him work here. I gave him free reign to spy on us.”
“Janice might have put him up to it,” Anna said. “Still could have been a prank on a new neighbor.”
“If it was she sure played it cool.” Madison sat down with Anna. “I saw her a couple days later. She warned me about a guy in costume, lurking around her house. Said she called the cops.”
“She told you that to deflect suspicion,” Gen said.
“Janice doesn’t come across as smart enough to have a plan,” Madison said. “Seeley, though. He’s got a brain. I wonder if it’s just him, up to no good. They’re an odd couple. I’ve wondered what the attraction was. Think he’s using her?”
A sharp breath brought all eyes to Genevieve. “He could be in with Velasco, acting as the creep’s eyes to find whatever it is they want here. He might’ve hooked up with Janice because she lives next door. If that’s true, they know all about this key.” Genevieve looked morose. “Thanks to me.”
Madison patted Gen’s shoulder. “So he knows we found a stupid key. We don’t even know what it opens.”
“I also said it didn’t fit the box.” Gen looked even more worried. “So he knows we found a locked box, too. If he has a deal with Velasco, he’s passing information.”
“You didn’t mention the money or the picture.” Anna pulled the crisp five dollar bills from her jeans and handed them to Gen. “He doesn’t know all that much.”
“No harm done,” Madison said. “I still think Velasco’s buyer wants the land, not poetry and pictures of Mallory during the war.”
“I don’t know. There’s bits and pieces of the past coming to light here,” Gen said. “And they don’t make sense.”
“Make sense to who?” Madison shrugged. “So what if it was Seeley that night? I just won’t call him anymore. The whole thing will go away.”
Madison tucked the bills into the nightstand. “Enough for today. Let’s head back down and think about lunch.”
Hodge was alone when they returned to the kitchen, pulling spent Romex tacked along the stone wall where the cabinet once stood.
“Where’s my handyman?” Madison asked.
He looked up from the wire. “He went home to grab some grub. I told him we’d be making lunch, and he was welcome to stay. But he said no. Said to call if you want him back this afternoon.”
“He didn’t stick around long enough for a check,” Madison said.
“Yeah,” Hodge replied. “I like that in a guy. Not worried about the money, I mean. He was all right.”
Anna rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Men. Clueless.” Aloud, she said, “Hodge Tooley, you wouldn’t say anything bad about the devil if he stuck you with his pitchfork.”
“Maybe not,” Hodge replied.
“I’m starving,” Gen said. “What’s for lunch?”
“Let’s take the boxes of clothes to the garage,” Madison said. “Then we can put together some sandwiches.”
She led the way out to the carriage house. “Are we keeping quiet or sharing our theory with Hodge?”
Anna shook her head. “No need to make him worry.”
“No need for any of us to worry,” Madison replied. “Unless it’s about fire. Gen, can I interest you in sorting through a few magazines?” She waved at the boxes stacked a dozen high against the wall.
“A few?” Gen said. “Try a few thousand.”
Madison scowled. “True. Looks like they go back for decades. The Blackburnes must’ve saved every issue from the minute they moved in.”
Gen ran her hand over the closest container. “I checked them out the day we found the bedroom. Did you notice? The boxes are from a paper maker. Every single one is stamped with the brand name Crane and Company.”
“I’m more interested in getting rid of the contents than who made the boxes.”
“Ask Dr. Udell if the college will take them,” Anna said. “It’s a long shot, but you never know. Maybe they’d want them for something.”
“Good idea.” Madison turned back toward the house. “I’ve been meaning to call her.”
“Mad.” Gen followed closely on Madison’s heels. “Don’t let them take my journals yet. I’ve barely started going through them, and you promised they wouldn’t go until I finished.”
; “Don’t worry, Agent 99,” Madison replied. “I just want to touch bases with her, let her know I haven’t forgotten about my offer.”
“All right,” Genny said. “But I want to look at every single item before it leaves here.”
Back in the kitchen, the girls cleared plastic off the counters. Anna pulled chicken salad, condiments, lettuce and tomatoes from the fridge. Working as a team, she and Madison assembled thick sandwiches on slabs of whole grain bread while Gen set the table.
Hodge disappeared into the passageway to pull the last of the wiring, then re-emerged.“Maddy, come here for a minute.”
He led the way back down the rough corridor. She could see the rounded landing of the staircase at the far end. Hodge bent over as the treads above narrowed the space.
Finally, he was on his knees.
“Look here,” he said.
She leaned over his shoulder.
His flashlight was trained on a square of flooring.
“Can you see this patch in the subfloor? The wood looks old and it’s fitted well, but I think it was a trapdoor. I wonder if it used to be a way into a crawl space.”
Madison nodded. “The home inspector was looking for an access. I never have come across a way to get in. Why would it be back here?”
“Maybe they did change the floor plan while they were building,” Hodge said. “If they covered this one up, there has to be another door to get under the house somewhere else.”
Madison backed out until she could stand upright, then felt her way along the stone wall into the light. Hodge followed.
Gen was waiting, hands on hips. “What was it?” she asked.
“A patched hole in the floor,” Hodge said. “Concealed so well I almost missed it.” He went to the sink to wash his hands.
The women looked at each other across the kitchen. Genny raised her eyebrows. “Now, I wonder. What’s the significance of that?”
Hodge laughed. “Maybe they had a torture chamber under the living room. They kidnapped and held homeless people, but the cops caught wind of it, so they boarded the place up and hid the room forever by building a false wall.”
He reached for a towel and wiped his hands. When he turned away from the sink, three pairs of eyes stared at him in disbelief.
“What?” he demanded. “You look like deer in the headlights.” They said nothing. “Oh come on, people. I was just kidding. Your imaginations are way off the charts.”
Madison reached for a serrated knife. “I vant to drink your blooooood,” she said, then slammed the knife down, neatly cutting a sandwich in two.
Gen picked up a plate and handed it to Anna. She placed the sections neatly atop it and added a handful of chips on the side.
“Sooner or later, I’ll need to get under the floor to check the plumbing.” Madison cut and plated the rest of the sandwiches, and the girls carried them into the dining room.
Hodge laughed. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks it’s a spider-webby, rocky, tight-squeeze of a crawl space. And once you’re inside, you’ll imagine snakes and spiders and rats hiding in every crack and crevice, just waiting to get tangled in your hair.”
“Then again, maybe the pipes will last forever,” Madison added.
He sat down and took a deep swallow of iced tea, then put the glass down and looked at them innocently. “Ready to rip it open and go in?”
All three women cringed.
“No rush,” Genny said. “I’m just filling my spare time, imagining there might be a mystery. Let me have that, okay?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“This is Madison Boone. May I speak to Dr. Udell, please?” The corded desk phone was stretched to capacity, allowing Madison to appreciate the view. The pale blue sky was clear and cloudless. She could see for miles. “Yes, I’ll hold.”
Genny was downstairs, propped on cushions before the fire. Edward’s books and journals were piled around her, covered with sticky notes marking entries she suspected might be meaningful.
Madison had to admire the way Gen focused on what she wanted. Right now, she was fanatical about solving the puzzle of how Mallory and Edward had met and married. She was poring over his notes, trying to ferret out the story.
“Read this,” Gen had demanded that morning, handing a journal across the kitchen table. Madison found the tab halfway down the page.
My eyes are trained to see the color variations in a female’s plumage. But I want to know how she feels when her mate returns. I want my heart to soar with hers as she flies. I want my mind to be one with her thoughts. I want my soul to understand what drives her as she navigates the ocean on her journey through the seasons of her life.
A lump formed in Madison’s throat. She finished the paragraph and handed over the book. “Sweet words from a nerdy birdy guy.”
“He isn’t writing about birds there.”
“What makes you think so?”
Gen leaned in. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Of course.” Madison’s eyes dropped to her toast.
“Ah, can’t look me in the eye,” Gen said. “That must mean you’re in love with Cole. I thought so.” She snapped the journal shut and waggled it over her scrambled eggs. “Then you know that this is how you write about a lover, not a loon. Well, not the kind of loon with feathers, anyway. Although coincidentally, people in love are kind of loony, too.”
She shook the book again. “These are musings about someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.”
Madison ignored her. “Look at this place, Genevieve. He obviously adored everything with feathers.”
“I can see that. But his fascination with birds was a distant second to his true love.”
Gen was right and Madison knew it. The night before, she’d finally opened Mallory’s book of poetry, rescued from the desk the day after she moved in. She’d thumbed through it, feeling like a trespasser, reading Mallory’s notes in the margins.
The snippets revealed a woman who basked in a world that was resplendent with the simple joy of living with the love of her life.
She heard a click on the line and snapped back to the present.
“Miss Boone?” Dr. Udell’s voice sounded fragile today. “What a pleasure.”
“Yes, it’s me, Dr. Udell,” Madison replied. “Sorry it’s been so long.”
“Please call me Evelyn. I’ve been anxiously awaiting word about Edward’s research. Are you ready for me to take the trivia of science off your hands?”
“Yes and no,” Madison said. “We’re going through things, but a friend who’s staying with me has gotten attached to Edward’s journals. I’ll pass them along when she’s done.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “I’d hoped you were calling to invite me to drop by.”
“I can part with some of it soon. I was calling today to ask about the Blackburnes.”
“Anything I can do to help,” Evelyn replied. “Ask away.”
“Did Edward keep homing pigeons?”
“I’m not sure. Why, dear? What did you find?”
“An old dovecote.”
Evelyn laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He was a bird man, after all.”
“Yes, he was,” Madison replied. “And I know this will sound odd, but do you know if he was involved in the war somehow, or was it just bad timing that he was in Europe?”
Evelyn coughed. “To the best of my knowledge, dear, Edward Blackburne was merely a scientist, drawn by the opportunity to continue his studies.”
Madison cleared her throat. “How did he die?”
Evelyn’s laugh rang through the handset. “My, but you’re sounding like a novelist now. Have you taken my suggestion seriously?”
Madison pressed the phone to her ear. “I am getting more and more curious about them. Do you know what caused his death?”
“I believe it was his heart. He was getting on in years, you know. What are you unearthing there that stokes your interest so?”
“Oh, pictures. Poems a
nd journal entries. It’s easy to believe there’s a deeper story to Edward and Mallory.”
“I can imagine.” Evelyn’s tone was conspiratorial. “Whenever you’re ready, I’d love to visit and join in the thrill first hand. Perhaps I could identify some of the photographs?”
“That would be fun.” Madison perked up. “What does your schedule look like next week?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cole tossed two hefty slabs of oak on the fire and used the poker to move them over the blistering coals. “Are you sure I can’t help?”
Madison was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching. “We’ve got it covered. Relax. Enjoy your wine. You cook all the time. Let us wait on you for a change.”
“Us?” Cole stopped what he was doing and bit his nails. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that, after all the jokes about Genevieve’s culinary skills.”
“Hey, now,” Genny called. “I’m just making a salad, for God’s sake. Not like I’m trying to poison you with raw fish or steak tartare. Keep in mind that the Dalai Lama says we should ‘approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.’”
Madison smiled.
Cole chuckled and wandered to the bookshelves. He paused and sipped from a glass of cabernet, then ran his fingertip across a row of volumes.
“What, no snappy comeback?” Genny called.
Cole raised his voice so she could hear him in the kitchen. “His Holiness also said that silence is sometimes the best answer.”
“I cannot win with you,” Genny said.
“You were born a winner.” Cole tipped out a volume and scanned the cover page.
“I’m in stitches here,” Gen answered.
“Leave it to a professor to entertain himself with a book,” Madison commented.
He turned. “This is the first time I’ve noticed this copy of Finnegan’s Wake.”
He hefted the hardback and followed Madison into the kitchen. “It’s ancient.” He opened the cover again and leafed through the pages. “I wonder if it’s a first edition. Any chance she knew James Joyce?”
“Maybe she named the cat after it,” Madison said.