Dead Roots

by Nancy J. Cohen

  They reached Polly’s door, and Marla preceded Vail inside. Her gut clenched as she surveyed the empty room. Someone had disposed of the linens and aired the bed, but an unpleasant odor lingered in the air. She noticed the medicine bottle was missing, although everything else seemed pretty much intact.

  “Where do I start?” she asked helplessly, surveying a silver comb and brush set on the dresser top, a tissue box on the night table, and a denture cup. A powdery film coated most surfaces. Vail must have gotten the cops to dust for fingerprints. She noticed someone had picked up the clothing from the floor.

  “No one has accounted for that nurse’s aide who came last night. Did you learn anything about her?”

  Vail grimaced. “Nope. I’m hoping the techs will pick up something we can trace.”

  “We?”

  “I intend to stay fully informed about this case.”

  Marla hadn’t realized she’d tensed, but her muscles eased at his words. Rolling her injured shoulder, she was relieved to find its residual soreness gone. She looked into her fiancé’s smoky eyes. “Thanks, Dalton. It means a lot to me to share things with you, the good as well as the bad.”

  “I know.” He gave her a quick embrace, patting her on the back, then set her aside so they could begin work. Reaching the closet, he opened the creaky door and yanked out a worn suitcase, the old kind without wheels. “Why don’t you pack her clothes in here. Your family can decide if they want to give her stuff to a thrift shop.”

  “I’d better check her pockets. Polly was so paranoid, she probably hid cash around.”

  Unfortunately, the only items in the pockets she discovered were used tissues, rusty bobby pins, and in one, a plastic rain hat. While Vail tossed bathroom implements into a handy laundry bag, Marla tackled her aunt’s purse. Nothing was more personal than combing through another woman’s handbag, and Marla felt uncomfortable violating Polly’s privacy. Inside her wallet were a few small bills, a social security card, Medicare information, and business cards from doctor’s offices. Polly hadn’t even owned a driver’s license. Worse were the folded plastic bags that Marla suspected were for taking home leftovers from early-bird specials. She mauled through several more pathetic items, growing increasingly depressed. Finally, she threw the purse—minus the wallet—onto the pile of folded clothing in the suitcase.

  Stretching, Marla strolled across the carpet toward the window, but along the way, her gaze caught upon the fireplace that she had wondered about earlier. A grating in front guarded the recess, but there appeared to be no evidence of charred wood or even an exhaust vent.

  “Dalton, look at this,” she said, stooping to unfasten the grate. Removing the obstacle, she crouched on her knees to peer inside. The concave opening was deep, with a bricklike lining and a dust-free floor. It reminded her of a gaping oven, and with that image came the memory of the story of Hansel and Gretel, who shoved the witch into the oven to be rid of her.

  Hearing an odd whistling sound, Marla tilted her head to listen. It sounded like wind rushing through a gorge. Could there be an opening behind here somewhere? Her pulse accelerated as she traced the edges with her fingers. The rough surface scraped her skin, but she felt no unusual protuberances.

  “What is it?” Vail said, his bulk hovering at her shoulder.

  “I don’t know. Isn’t it illogical to have a fireplace with no chimney? I mean, the rooms could have been modernized for electric fires, but even then the hearth wouldn’t be this clean. There should be some residue or other indication of use.”

  “Hmm, I see what you’re saying.” His strong fingers probed the edges along the outer arch.

  A latch clicked, and suddenly Marla was staring into a dark, dank tunnel. “Omigod, it’s a secret passage!”

  “I’ve always wanted to find one of those.”

  His excited tone made her glare back at him. “I’m not Nancy Drew, and you’re not one of the Hardy boys. People are dying here, need I remind you?”

  “Right. Get moving.” Grinning like a puppy, he let a lock of peppery hair fall onto his face.

  Shaking her head, Marla shuffled forward. On her hands and knees, she ended up twisted like a pretzel when she attempted to squeeze through the narrow opening. For someone as slight as Polly, however, it would pose no problems. If the old lady had been through here recently, she must’ve been more spry than Marla had realized. And that made her death all the more suspect.

  Marla dragged her legs through the narrow stretch until the space widened. A cobweb snagged her arm, eliciting a muttered cry while she brushed off the sticky substance, imagining spiders crawling through her hair.

  “I don’t suppose you have a flashlight?” she said to Vail, thinking of her own purse that she’d locked in her suitcase in their room. An earthy scent tickled her nostrils, making her sneeze. Surrounded by four solid walls, she crept ahead in the yawning blackness, listening acutely for scurrying creatures. All she heard was the strange whistling, ebbing and flowing like the ocean waves outside.

  “Actually, I have this emergency light,” he said, flicking something on that produced a fairly strong bluish glow.

  “Hey, I just came to a landing of some sort.”

  Following her pronouncement came a slamming noise accompanied by a couple of resounding clicks. It originated from behind them.

  Vail cursed.

  Marla glanced back in alarm. “What was that?”

  “I hate to say this, but I think we’ve just been locked in.”

  Chapter Ten

  “What do you mean?” Marla said, rubbing her shoulder. “How could the panel shut on its own? There wasn’t any breeze in the room.”

  Then again, how could her purse have jumped from the nightstand drawer to her suitcase? Could this be a ghostly presence at work, or someone much more real? Of the two possibilities, she preferred the first one. It didn’t bode well that a person with mischievous intent kept such close watch on them.

  “No luck,” Vail said, after he’d scuttled back to test the entry. His grim face confirmed their plight. “Keep moving forward. We’ll look for another exit.”

  Folding her body onto the landing, Marla inhaled a deep breath of musty air. “I think we can stand here. Give me your light.” She took the key-chain device and shone it around the walls. Sure enough, there was enough space to stretch. Moreover, a spiral staircase faced them.

  Tucking her legs underneath, she pushed herself upright. Her head cleared the ceiling by a couple of inches. Vail stooped when he stood.

  “Which way should we go?” she asked.

  “We started out on the fourth floor. If we go down, we’ll probably come to either an exit outdoors, or a panel that opens into one of the major corridors at ground level. Unless you want to go up and see where it leads.”

  “I’d like to know who uses these passages.” A scrabbling noise made her clutch his arm. The cobwebs aren’t too bad, nor is there much dust. That panel opened rather easily, too. I’d say someone’s been through here fairly recently.”

  His light flickered, and she gripped his bicep tighter. The whistling noise abruptly stopped. Muttering voices sounded as though they came from the other side of the wall.

  “What’s that? Do you hear them?”

  Vail glanced at her as though she’d sprouted wings in her ears. “Hear what?”

  “People talking. Do you think we’re next to someone’s bedroom?”

  “Who knows? We should draw a diagram of the tunnels to overlay a blueprint of the hotel. Right now, let’s climb the stairs,” he suggested. A smile tilted his lips. “That is, if you’re game.”

  Despite their situation, he looked incredibly sexy with his eyes glimmering in the bluish light and his silver-streaked hair tumbling onto his forehead.

  “Why not?” Marla said, shrugging. “This has been a great day so far, having Thanksgiving dinner with my relatives, dealing with Polly’s death, falling into the pit, getting cryptic stories from the groundskeeper, and now bein
g shut inside this maze. Let’s hope we can find a way out.”

  “Whoa, what pit? Did I miss something?”

  Forging ahead, she grasped an iron railing as she forced one foot above the other on the narrow stairwell. “I forgot to mention that I took a walk out by the sugar mill. In the section with the boiling vats, I sort of fell into one. Dr. Spector came by and helped me.”

  He gave a strangled grunt. ‘You went off alone, just happened to topple into one of those enormous cavities that are too obvious to overlook, and the chief ghost chaser just happened to be sauntering past in order to lend a hand? Give me a break.”

  “Dr. Spector acted very kindly. I don’t think he pushed me inside the pit.”

  “Oh, so now you were pushed? This gets even better.”

  “Go ahead, be angry with me. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Sweat beaded her upper lip and brow. Without air flow, she felt overly warm. Or was it her sense of guilt for withholding information from her fiancé that suffused her with heat?

  “I just want you to be safe,” his voice grated from below.

  “I know, but I’m not prepared to sit in our room for the entire weekend. We have too many questions that need answers.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “That’s why you like me. I’m not afraid to do what has to be done.”

  “No, that’s not true. I love you because you give my life meaning. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  “I worry about you too, so let’s drop the subject. I’ll be more careful hereafter.”

  “I’ve heard that before, sweetcakes.”

  Ignoring him, she paused for breath. “Gads, do these stairs go on forever? We must have climbed several stories.”

  “I think we’re in the tower.”

  Marla placed her foot on the next step. A stone crumbled, and she pitched forward. Grabbing the rail, she caught herself while Vail snagged her from behind. She hauled herself back with his assistance.

  “Stop running like you’re catching the subway,” he said in a curt tone. “This looks like it levels out up there. It should be easier going soon.”

  “I hope so.” Her legs trembling, she pressed her hand to the wall. Slime coated its surface, most likely mold growing in the dank darkness. Grimacing with distaste, she skipped the broken step but nearly lost her balance again when she heard eerie laughter pealing in the distance.

  Get me out of here, her instincts cried. Yet curiosity compelled her onward. If they were indeed in the tower, which floor would they end up at? Was this why Polly had made a show of staying in Jasmine Hall, because she had ready access to Andrew’s suite or the level below?

  They reached an intersection, where the choice presented itself of either continuing the climb or facing a blank wall.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Vail said, bending his knees to keep his head from banging the ceiling. “Why is this landing here?” His fingers cataloged the wall. “I don’t feel any locking mechanism.”

  Marla stood next to him, wondering if they should keep following the staircase until its end. But what if they faced the same puzzle above? Borrowing his light, she splayed it on the edges of the rectangle. Mildew made it hard to distinguish any cracks. Shifting the angle of the light, she looked for changes in reflectiveness. One particularly knobby spot caught her eye. Pressing it with the palm of her hand, she was gratified to hear a clicking noise. A rush of air followed as the hidden panel slid open.

  “You did it,” Vail exulted, charging into a corridor that stretched into the dismal blackness. Not a single window illuminated the carpeted hallway. As soon as she stepped across the threshold, the panel closed behind them with a soft hiss.

  “This has to be the twelfth floor,” she said, sniffing a musty odor, “although I don’t remember it being this dark. The stairs must continue up to Andrew’s suite.”

  “You won’t get me back in those tunnels.” Vail pointed toward the elevator shaft a few paces ahead. “We can reach the fourteenth floor the normal way, or find a fire exit. How much did you see the last time you were here?”

  “I just explored the first few rooms. Hold on, something isn’t right. Look at the elevator.” She walked over. There’s no call button.”

  “Huh?” Reaching her side, Vail peered at the closed doors to the elevator shaft. He used his key light, which Marla had returned to him, to see clearly. That’s odd.”

  “Maybe we’re not on the twelfth floor.”

  “Then what’s this? Number thirteen?”

  “Could be a hidden level. We can’t go too far without better lighting, though.”

  “You’re right. We’d better look for a real stairwell.”

  Marla’s neck prickled at a rhythmic clomping sound. Vail’s startled glance told her he heard it, too. Her apprehensive gaze turned toward the hallway. Coming toward them were footprints sinking into the carpet, but they saw no one. A chill wind swept them like an enveloping cloud. Marla could almost smell the effluvia.

  She could smell it. Cigar smoke mingled with the strong scent of rum. A piano started playing, and she heard a sound like glasses clinking.

  “Yikesl” Pivoting, she nearly flew toward the hidden panel. Her hand pounded the rim, searching for the release. “Dalton, is that you?” she shrieked when someone pinched her bottom.

  “What? I’m not doing anything.”

  An icy finger tickled her neck. She inhaled sharply. The air felt weighted, as though it had assumed a leaden quality.

  Vail found the proper knobby protrusion, and the panel opened. “We’ll return with lanterns,” he promised.

  “Oh joy. I can’t wait.” She could tell from his pallid complexion that he’d encountered some anomalies, too. Had the ghost hunters checked out the tower at all, or were their explorations confined to Oleander Hall?

  “I wonder what purpose this level served,” Marla said once they were inside the passage again. She put a hand to her chest, feeling her heart’s rapid thumping.

  “I’ll ask Butler. He may be aware this floor exists.”

  “Seto Mulch knows this place’s secrets, although he’s not eager to divulge them. He might talk more readily when I tell him what we’ve found.” Facing the spiral staircase, she moaned. Her legs already ached from the climb. “Now where?”

  “Upstairs? At least we know the tower elevator reaches the penthouse.”

  “We must have missed an exit onto the twelfth floor. That is, if Polly made use of this route. I don’t think she was physically fit enough for this much exertion.” And if Polly wasn’t the one brushing away the cobwebs, who was?

  “Unfortunately, it’s too late to ask your aunt.” Vail led the way upward. “Be careful; this last step is a bit wobbly.”

  Now that they knew what to look for, finding the portal mechanism wasn’t as difficult. Waning sunlight filtered into the corridor as they entered the fourteenth floor. Tall windows were framed by gossamer white drapes, now a faded gray. The ratified air, uncontaminated for years by human habitation, had an earthen scent as though mice were the hall’s sole remaining residents.

  Passing the elevator, Marla opened the first door on the right. It squeaked on its hinges, making her grit her teeth. Hoping the spooks were busy on the lower level, she advanced briefly into a lady’s bedroom. From what she could see of the furnishings that weren’t covered with sheets, it was decorated in Louis XVI style with faded red damask wallpaper and upholstery. To the left of the fireplace hung an engraving by a French artist. An antique clock and tarnished silver candlesticks decorated the mantelpiece.

  The next few rooms revealed lacquered boxes and other knickknacks, as though the rooms had been sealed and left untouched. A comfortable sitting room, two spacious master suites, and five more guest bedrooms branched off the hall. Marla hesitated inside the masculine paneled suite that must have belonged to Andrew.

  “This is incredible,” she said to Vail, who stooped to examine a brass lion-footed brazier besi
de yet another fireplace. “The artworks in here alone must be worth a fortune. Andrew had to be very wealthy to acquire pieces like this.” She pointed to a pair of miniature bronzes horses.

  “No kidding. I’m surprised no one’s made off with this stuff.” Straightening his spine, he regarded her with an oblique expression. “There must be a reason why this level has been preserved.”

  “Andrew’s gemstones could be stashed in this room. Do you see a humidor?”

  “Nope. It could be anywhere, unless it doesn’t exist. How much of the stories we’ve heard is legend, and how much is real?”

  “Bless my bones, I wish I’d known about this floor when Polly was still alive. I’ll have to ask Ma and her brothers what they remember. They must’ve been up here when they were little. They may have even lived on this floor.” A return visit to the caretaker was in order. He must have overseen repairs.

  Sparing a moment, she listened to the silence. “Isn’t it odd the spirits don’t haunt this place? Does that mean they’re trying to tell us something about the twelfth or thirteenth floors?”

  Vail held up his hands. “I’m not the one to second-guess any ghosts. We have enough things to check out without their interference.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “One, does someone in your family retain part ownership of the resort and, if so, exactly which parts? Two, find the source of Andrew’s wealth. Three, figure out the purpose of the hidden level. Four, follow the secret passage to its ground entrance.”

  “That one is easy, but you’ve forgotten a more important item. Polly urged me to find her letters. I have no idea what letters she wrote to someone named Vincent, but they meant a lot to her. I’ll bet they hold the answers we’re seeking.”