by Stacy Green
“And when I came along?”
“Norton was pissed off. They lost a great deal. But truthfully, I was happy. I’m glad the house won’t be torn down. As long as you’re able to stick it out.” And there it was. Condescension colored his tone.
“I intend to.” She didn’t break eye contact, didn’t mince any words, didn’t soften her voice.
Ben gave a quick nod. “Good. Now, let’s eat.”
Dinner was delicious: fried Mississippi catfish with a tangy barbeque sauce that burned deliciously, fried okra and fresh asparagus, with cream cake for dessert. Dani allowed Ben to steer the conversation, and he spent the meal asking about her previous life, her lack of boyfriends and her busy career. She kept her answers as short as possible. She wasn’t interested in baring her soul to Ben. The subject of Ironwood wasn’t brought up again until Grace popped her head in to say hello.
“Mom, did Grandpa have an older copy of the house plans? One that predated the church’s? I know CaryAnne gave him some things for safekeeping.”
Grace’s pleasant smile threatened to falter. “No, dear. Not that I’ve ever seen. I’ve got to get back to my guests, but Dani, you make sure you find me before you leave.”
Dani promised she would, and Ben suggested Dani ask Gina when she could have the house back.
“It’s your home. They can’t keep it a crime scene forever.”
“I’m all right at Jaymee’s.”
“Well, let me know if there’s anything you need. And let’s hope you’re allowed back into Ironwood sooner rather than later.”
“Sounds good.” She looked at her watch. It was nearly 9 p.m., and she was exhausted. “I really should be heading out.”
Grace reappeared. “Ben, could you do me a favor? I need a new bottle of wine, and the case is in the wine cellar. Can you fetch it?”
“Sure, Mom. Let me just walk Dani to her car.”
“I need it right now, honey,” Grace ushered him toward the back of the house. “I’ll keep Dani company while you’re down there.”
Ben frowned but obeyed his mother. Dani opened her mouth to praise Grace on her dinner, but the old lady cut her off.
“Listen, before Ben comes back.” Grace spoke quickly, her words hushed and faint. “I didn’t want to tell you this the other day. Daddy and I were with CaryAnne the night she died. We’d gone over there to bring her a meal, and she was fading fast. We sat with her. I’ll never forget her gasping for breath and trying to tell Daddy to search the library. ‘Everything’s there, Grace,’ she said. Your daddy can pay the bank and save Ironwood. Make him promise to save my Ironwood. For me. For my family. And when you hear the truth, don’t hate me. I had to save him.”
“Save who?”
“She didn’t say. She died right there, and that was it.”
“She meant John James. She had to have. But the bones were in the basement, not the library. Did your father find anything?”
“No,” Grace said. “He searched everywhere in that library but couldn’t find anything of value. The desk was full of useless records, half of them two decades old from when CaryAnne still had a good crop. Her will wasn’t there either. She told Daddy it was, but he never found it. Ironwood was supposed to have been left to him, but without the will, we couldn’t stop the bank from taking the house. And we never got back inside. Daddy always felt he missed something and that he failed CaryAnne. He died believing she’d left something in the library–that there was a hiding spot we missed.”
Grace peeked around the corner. “Ben’s coming. Don’t tell him any of this, Dani. He won’t take care of the history.” She closed her eyes, face pinched. “He’ll sell it.”
Mind scrambled, Dani nodded. “Thank you so much for the dinner tonight,” she said just as Ben rounded the corner. “I wish you could have eaten with us.”
“Next time, dear. I promise.”
Ben walked Dani to her car, his hand resting too low on her hip. “I hope you had a nice evening.”
“I did, thank you.” She unlocked the car and quickly sat down, ready to escape.
Undeterred, Ben rested his hand on the open door. “I’d like to see you again, Dani.”
“Of course you will. Your mother and I are neighbors.”
“I meant, just the two of us. Dinner out, perhaps? Maybe in Natchez?”
“As soon as everything dies down, I promise.” She hoped she wouldn’t have to keep those words. Ben nodded and leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek. He smelled of expensive cologne and starched shirts. She forced a smile.
“Goodnight.”
Just as he’d waited for her to arrive, Ben watched her leave, standing silent on Oak Lynn’s porch. Dani was grateful when she pulled out of the driveway and out of his sight.
She didn’t want to think about what she was going to do if he continued to reach out to her. She had other things to think about. Namely, how she was going to convince Jaymee to sneak into Ironwood with her tonight.
26
Turned out convincing Jaymee to go with her wasn’t hard. She’d been dying to see the inside of the house.
“Why’d you turn the headlights off?” Dani’s fingers dug into the armrest. “It’s pitch black outside.”
“No it’s not,” Jaymee said. “You’re too used to the city. Look at the moon, the way it lights up the road. No smog out here. And I turned them off because we’re going to be breaking and entering. I figured it was the right thing to do.”
“It’s not breaking and entering when I have a key.”
“Pretty sure it is if the house is a crime scene.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” Dani said. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“No way. You’re not leaving me behind now. I’m too excited.”
Jaymee pulled into Ironwood’s long drive, and they rode in silence while she parked underneath the majestic live oak tree. At night, under the silvery glow of the moon, the wisps of Spanish moss were ghostlike–the spirits of the past weaving their way through the twisted branches of the tree.
Dani stepped out into the steamy night air. Instead of loosening its grip, the humidity had gotten stronger. Moisture blossomed across her forehead and upper lip. Stillness permeated the heat blanket, magnifying every swish of the oak and willow trees as their branches waved in the breeze. In the distance, a loud, guttural noise burst through the quiet darkness.
“What the hell was that?”
Jaymee giggled. “Bullfrog. There’s a pretty big stream about a hundred yards behind the house. Runs past Oak Lynn and down toward the cemetery.”
The bullfrog croaked again, and seconds later another answered. A third quickly joined in.
“Sounds like they’re having a party.” Jaymee reached the porch first. “You’ve got the gloves and booties, right?”
Dani was still marveling at the frogs’ conversation. “What? Yes.” She tiptoed up the porch, stopping next to Jaymee. She handed her the protective wear. “This way, our breaking and entering is responsible.”
“Very good.”
“Don’t forget the booties.”
Jaymee nodded and then pointed to the repellent yellow crime scene tape. “You first.”
Dani breathed deeply, gathering whatever courage she possessed, and ducked under the tape before she could change her mind. Jaymee followed suit. Neither spoke as Dani unlocked the door and eased it open.
The old oak emitted a squeak worthy of a campy horror movie. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood in the doorway staring into the dark house. The weight of what they were about to do–and what had happened in this place–pressed onto Dani’s shoulders.
“Jesus, Jaymee. People were murdered here.”
“You want to go back?”
“No. I want to search the library.”
Jaymee shined her flashlight into the foyer. “All right then. Lead the way.”
The decaying tile in the foyer muffled their footsteps, but the second they stepped int
o the hall, the wooden floors groaned as if announcing their intrusion. Dani moved cautiously, half afraid of someone jumping out from the shadows.
She covered her nose. “I don’t know how I’m going to get rid of it. It’s in the soil.”
“Smell of death lingers,” Jaymee whispered. “You may have to pour a cement floor. When you get the house back, call a crime-scene cleanup crew from the city. They’ll have some ideas.”
They’d reached the dual staircase. Hulking and silent, the onetime showpiece of the house loomed. Jaymee paused at the bottom, casting her light on the crumbling wood. “I always wanted to see this. Evaline is famous for the spiral staircase, but this is better. Imagine getting married on this.”
Dani already had. “It would have been amazing. But with my luck, I’d fall and break my neck.”
Jaymee’s laugh echoed throughout the house, an invasive break in the quiet. “Me, too.”
A rapid pattering sounded over their heads.
“You’ve got critters,” Jaymee said.
“Let’s hope that’s all I have.” Dani suddenly realized the foolishness of her impulsive plan. “And that the secret passage I can’t find runs through the house, not out of it. Because if it does and the killer knows about it…” Dani let her voice trail off. She didn’t want to think about the possibilities.
“Good point.”
The library was tucked away in the back corner of the house. Dani unlocked the door and immediately sneezed. The police’s search had stirred up layers of dust. The musty scent of abandonment and age hovered, stagnant. Fading wallpaper dating back to the Victorian era peeled in jagged stripes. A five section bow window with a decayed seat and equally rotting drapes ensured the room’s dreariness. To its right sat a single abandoned chair, nearly hidden in the corner.
“You think it’s safe to turn on the light?” Dani asked.
“Probably. Just keep the curtains closed.”
Dani felt for the dial, wincing as meager light from the generic overhead fixture flickered on.
“Well that’s not original,” Jaymee said. “Looks like something my parents had when I was a kid.”
“I’m betting a chandelier hung there at one time. Probably hocked for cash.”
“So why did the church keep this room locked up?” Jaymee walked to the center of the library and turned a slow circle, arms outstretched. “Nothing is left to take.” She pointed to the sconces. “Maybe those. And I suppose a really determined asshole could have busted up the built-ins for resale.” She touched the large shelves running along the wall. “Solid oak, right?”
“Yes.” Dani brushed past Jaymee, heading straight for the window seat. Once a beautiful addition to the room, the bow window had probably been a showpiece, not to mention an excellent source of afternoon light. Now, decades of grime covered all the windowpanes, and the seat’s velvet cushion was moth-eaten and stinking of age. After some struggle, the seat opened, bringing with it the odor of old wood and rotten air. The inside was disappointingly empty. Sinking down to her knees, Dani peered along the seams of the wooden built-in.
“What are you doing?”
“I restored a house in Gary, Indiana, that had a hidden compartment in every one of its window seats–three total. And each one was different. One had a front section that opened, another the seat itself came off, and the third had a side compartment.”
Jaymee crouched beside her. “See anything like that here?”
“It’s solid.”
“Too easy.”
Below the rows of bare shelves were several deep cabinets decorated with intricate, scrolling patterns. Many had broken hinges, while other were nearly swollen shut from decades of humidity. Dani dug a flathead screwdriver out of her canvas bag, carefully prying open each door while Jaymee examined the others. She’d have to answer to Gina later, but police had most likely already searched and found nothing. And Dani was looking for something entirely different.
“What am I looking for?” Jaymee asked.
“Anything in the wood that doesn’t line up. Gaps. Oddly placed screws.”
“No ‘x marks the spot?’”
“You didn’t think we’d get that lucky, did you?”
Cabinet by cabinet, they made their way across the southern side of the room. Most were empty. A few of the stuck-shut ones revealed various scraps of paper, including a handwritten list in a nearly ineligible scrawl; several bottles of cure-all tonics, probably from the late nineteenth century; a two-cent piece; a liquor bottle; and Dani’s favorite, a record released by the Columbia Graphophone Company in 1915, featuring stories told by a popular Vaudeville personality.
No sign of any hidden compartment.
After nearly an hour of searching, Jaymee plopped down in the center of the room. She had a large smear of dust across her forehead. “What about the floorboards? Isn’t that a typical place to hide stuff?”
“They seem pretty solid.” Dani crisscrossed the room, checking each board for a hollow point, until she reached the lonely looking chair. Covered with dust, the wood along the back and legs had splintered, and the discolored upholstery had rotted clean through in some areas. “What a strange piece.”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s a Gondola chair. Sort of.” Dani ran her index finger along the arching back of the chair. “The C-shaped back and sloping sides are classic to the style. They were popular in the 1800s, so it fits.”
“But?”
“But it’s not a true Gondola. It’s too square and squat.”
“Maybe it’s homemade.”
Dani wiped her face with her equally sweaty arm. She flicked her flashlight back on, the beam illuminating thousands of dust particles as she shined it on the chair. Something niggled at her brain, a story a college professor had told in her first history class at IU. He and a friend loved to explore the abandoned homes of Indiana and had discovered all sorts of strange items during their trips. His favorite had been the couch with the secret compartment in its heavy base.
Could it be?
After all their effort, it was worth a shot.
Carefully grabbing the edge of the seat, Dani lifted hard, expecting the chair to rise. It didn’t budge, the muscles in her back screamed in protest, and she pitched forward, barely catching herself before she ate a mouthful of dust.
“Are you okay?” Jaymee rolled to her feet. She grabbed Dani’s arm to steady her.
Rubbing her hand against the small of her back, Dani nodded. “Why didn’t that thing move?”
Jaymee peered down at the floor. “It did–enough to show us that.”
Dani immediately realized what she meant. She’d managed to move the chair enough to show the notches on the floor where the Gondola’s heavy legs had rested.
“Hasn’t been moved in a long time,” Jaymee said. “Probably why no one bothered to sell it. Or steal it. Too damn heavy.”
“No way should this chair be that heavy.” Dani knelt to look at the legs more closely. The wood had splintered in several areas, and one gap was enough to slide her pinky finger inside. Instead of more wood or hollow space, she felt something cold and smooth. “We’ve got to turn it over on its side.”
With their combined weight, it still took three tries to heft the chair and ease it gently onto its side. Like most chairs, the upholstery wrapped around the entire seat and overlapped the bottom by a couple of inches. Dani wiped the underside clean, smearing the dirt over her denim shorts. She barely noticed that, however. She was too busy trying to catch her breath and calm down.
Elegantly carved in the center of the wood were the initials “J.J.L”
“Oh my God.” Jaymee’s excited voice sounded fair away.
“In my bag,” Dani managed. “There’s a utility knife.”
As soon as she had the knife in her shaking hand, Dani broke one of her most important rules. She slashed through the antique upholstery, cutting around the entire chair. The strip fell silently to the floor to reveal a crude
wooden latch and a rusting hinge. The hidden lid appeared barely large enough to slide a hand into.
“It’s some sort of metal box,” Dani said. “The chair was built around it.”
“Can you move the latch?”
Dani took the latch between her thumb and forefinger and then pushed as hard as she could. The latch didn’t move.
“I don’t suppose you have any kind of oil in that bag of yours?” Jaymee asked.
“Hand me the screwdriver.”
“Don’t break it.”
“Listen to you, telling the restoration expert to be careful. Trust me, I realize this chair is worth some money, especially if John James built it. But I’m desperate.”
“I’m not talking about that. We have to leave the chair in here. You’ve already ripped the fabric. Hopefully no one will notice. But if the latch is broken and the lid dangling, the cops will see it.”
Damn. “All right. This might take a while.”
Gingerly, barely able to take a full breath, Dani worked the latch open. Her fingers ached, and more than one splinter shred its way into her skin. Fresh moisture broke out on her upper lip.
Finally, the latch turned all the way to the left, and she was able to wedge the square lid open. Pulse thundering, Dani eased the lid down. “Flashlight.”
Leaning on her elbow, Dani cast her light into the hidden compartment.
“What do you see?”
“A roll of paper.” Dani passed the flashlight to Jaymee. The thick roll was wedged inside the chair horizontally, and she was afraid pulling too hard would rip the fragile paper. Lying flat on her back as though she were working beneath the hood of a car, she gently twisted and tugged until the roll of brittle paper slid out.
Creased and yellow, it was tied loosely with a thick piece of twine. Dani slipped it off, and together she and Jaymee flattened out the paper.
“The blueprints,” Dani said.
“Do they look any different than the church’s?”