“We even brought an apple pie from the bakery for dinner,” she added.
With a defeatist shrug, the officer turned back to his car.
“Thanks for stopping by,” I called out, “maybe we’ll see you tomorrow when we come to town?”
With another shrug for an answer, the officer got in his car and turned around, and drove back the way he came, leaving us in a cloud of dust.
The three of us stared at each other.
“Okay,” said Katy finally, “this place is so strange, even the cops are weird.”
“Do you guys want to know what I saw?” said Tetyana in a low voice, looking more serious than she usually did.
“What?” asked Katy.
“He had a professional-grade spike belt kit sitting on his passenger seat.”
“A professional-grade what?” I asked.
“Retractable spike belt. Works automatically with a touch of a button.”
“What does it do?”
“Slashes tires fast and efficiently.”
We stared at her.
“Easy to use,” she explained. “Conceal yourself on the side of the road, push a button just as the vehicle rolls by, and bingo. The spikes do their job and retract to the box. Happens in seconds, you never know what hit you.”
“You’re not serious,” I said, feeling my stomach sink.
“If that was deployed as it should have, all four tires would have got busted.” Tetyana paused, frowning. “If, and it’s a big if, he used it on us, it malfunctioned and retracted too soon. Or he jammed it real fast once he realized who we were.”
“But I didn’t see his car anywhere,” said Katy. “Wouldn’t we have noticed it on the road?”
Tetyana glanced around her.
“With an all-wheel drive, he could get over that ditch easily. This place is new to me, but I’m sure I’d be able to stake out a few good hiding spots for a car here.”
“Why would a police officer do that?” I said. “Or do you think he wasn’t a real cop?”
Tetyana didn’t answer for a while. If anyone could spot a fake cop anywhere in the world, it had to be her.
“No,” she said finally, “he was the real deal. If he wanted to use that on us, he was trying to dissuade us from going up to the house.”
“That’s a little drastic, isn’t it?” said Katy. “Is it even legal?”
“Police departments use them all the time to catch fugitives on the run. It’s a good way to stop terrorists too. David showed me how he used one in the Mossad once.”
“Maybe he was out to catch speedsters?” said Katy.
“On this potholed, backcountry private road?” said Tetyana, raising an eyebrow.
“Wait,” I said. “I was only ten over the limit. Besides, if I was speeding, why didn’t he just stop me with his lights and siren, like a normal cop?”
“He didn’t have to slash our tire.” Katy nodded. “He could have asked us nicely.”
“He did,” said Tetyana, “repeatedly. But we didn’t listen.”
It was turning out to be a strange day. I looked down the road where the dust was still settling from the officer’s car.
“This is all speculation,” said Tetyana. “We could have rolled over a few bad nails. Highly unlikely, but I can check the tire more closely once we get to the house.”
“Maybe he was truly worried about us getting stuck on this road with this dinky car,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” said Katy. “I think there’s some juicy stuff going on at Cedar Cottage, and this only makes me want to go there even more.”
I couldn’t agree more.
I just hoped the “juicy stuff” wasn’t going to kill us.
Tetyana patted the telltale bulge under her leather jacket. “Ladies, let’s all keep a sharp eye out from now on, shall we?”
We got inside the car, my mind still buzzing over what had happened. I turned the key. It was a relief to hear the engine purr. I double-checked the gas gauge to confirm what I knew already. We’d filled up in town, so we had plenty of fuel. Thank goodness for that.
It was almost completely dark now. The pine trees huddled along the sides of the road, looked like angry giant shadows. Scattered water droplets on my windshield told me the storm was on its way.
I turned on my high beams and rolled the car onto the road.
My GPS said Cedar Cottage was now only twelve minutes away.
I couldn’t wait to get off this gloomy, desolate road.
Chapter Six
My GPS was wrong.
It took us half an hour to reach Cedar Cottage.
Maybe the satellites couldn’t accurately pinpoint us among the mountains. Maybe it was the gusty thunderstorm brewing in the air that disturbed the data signals.
Either way, my driving slowed down considerably.
We were in unfamiliar territory in the dark, with one tire blown. We all kept a sharp eye out for potholes, potential roadkill, and suspicious debris. We weren’t sure if anyone else was hidden along the roadside with another spike belt or worse.
“You’d think anyone who owns that big house could afford to fix this road,” I said, as I swerved to avoid another rut on the gravel.
“Unless,” said Katy, “like the cop said, they don’t want too many people coming this way.”
“We’ll be arriving at a bridge in a few minutes,” said Tetyana, consulting her phone’s GPS. “That will take us to the estate’s driveway. Hopefully, they paved that.”
We drove on silently.
The road narrowed the closer we got to the house until there was space for only one vehicle on the path. I hoped to goodness no one would come barreling from the opposite direction. That would be a disaster.
There was something unusual up front. I slowed down even more.
“What is that?” asked Katy, pointing a finger through the seats.
I brought the car to a complete stop and peered through the darkness.
“The bridge,” said Tetyana.
She was right.
Twenty feet in front of us was a dilapidated wooden structure that looked like it would be risky to walk on, let alone drive on.
Beyond the bridge was a paved driveway, and about two hundred yards farther down was the big white house we’d spotted from the woods.
“I’ve seen better goat crossings in Ukraine,” said Tetyana.
“Is it going to hold us?” I wondered out loud.
“If we sink, we swim,” said Tetyana.
“Oh, god,” said Katy from behind us.
I pulled my window down and stuck my face out. A blustery wind blew my hair, making me shiver.
“Close the window,” said Katy.
I pushed myself up to get a better look. “The river’s rushing really fast,” I said, plopping back in my seat. “The storm’s almost here. It’ll be nasty tonight.”
Tetyana opened her door and got out. With our car’s headlights to guide her, she walked over and examined the wooden bridge. Two minutes later, she turned and gave me a thumbs up.
“Looks worse than it is,” she said, getting in and buckling up.
“There’s a truck parked up there,” she said, pointing at the house. “If that vehicle navigated over this, we should be fine.”
Taking a deep breath in, I took my foot off the brake. Unsure if this would be the biggest mistake I made that day, I rolled forward.
“Oh, god, please don’t break,” I heard Katy pray from behind me.
Cringing at every thud the tires made on the wooden ridges of the bridge, I pushed on. The sixty seconds it took us to cross the small structure felt like an eternity.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I heard the last frightening thud from the back tires, followed by the smooth paved driveway underneath us.
“We made it!” said Katy.
“Oh, come on,” said Tetyana, blowing a raspberry. “A cold swim wouldn’t have killed us.”
“Would have totaled t
he car,” I said.
“Then we’d find a more sensible truck to drive around in.”
The driveway up to the house was long and wide and lit by a row of cast-iron streetlights. It felt like we were time traveling to the past.
“What a place to build a home,” said Katy, her nose stuck to the window.
Mrs. Robinson had been very cryptic over the phone.
“Come to the end of the dirt road, cross the bridge and you’ll see the house. Only house for miles around. You can’t miss it.”
She hadn’t lied. But this wasn’t just any house.
It was a massive three-story piece of architecture with green gable shutters and ivy-covered white walls. Four striking pillars stood on guard on the high porch. Two chimneys and a cupola rose proudly from the tiled roof, complete with a rooster weathervane.
Almost all the windows were dark, but a pale yellow light was coming from the first-floor windows.
I drove up the driveway and parked next to the flatbed pickup truck. Beside it was a rusty white van and an ancient pale blue Mercedes sedan. Whoever lived here had little taste for cars, I gathered.
I turned off the engine.
“Looks like we’ve walked into a period drama,” said Katy in a hushed voice as we stared at the imposing building in front of us. “An American Downton Abbey.”
“It’s so isolated,” I said, “I’m sure it gets lonely up here.”
Other than the wind blasting through the grounds, it was quiet. There was nobody outside. At least, that’s what I thought at first.
I wished we had come earlier in the day so we could have seen the house and the mountain views behind it properly. With only the external security lights on the building and the cast-iron lampposts along the driveway, it was hard to make out much.
“Who lives here, other than this Mrs. Robinson?” asked Katy.
“When I called back for details, she said to come down and see for ourselves. Said she didn’t want us to prejudge anyone.” I paused. “You realize, she thinks she’s hired a private investigator team?”
“But aren’t we?” said Katy. “We’ve been solving cases for years now.”
“I wouldn’t call what we tackled cases,” said Tetyana, her voice somber. “We fought those men, rescued those kids. We taught those bastards a good lesson. It was war.”
Katy and I were silent for a moment. It was hard to hear our former life summarized in such brutal words. But she was telling the truth.
“Those days are over, girls,” I said, patting the dashboard. “Everyone’s safe in America and we’ve found normal lives.”
“But you’re getting restless,” piped Katy from the backseat, “aren’t you?”
I turned to look at my friend.
“What do you mean?”
“Admit it. You can bake for snotty rich folks for only so long before you go batty. You wanted to come on this adventure. That’s why you agreed to Madame Bouchard’s bizarro death wish in the first place.”
I stared at her, letting those words wash over me. She was right, but did I want to admit it to myself?
Madame Bouchard didn’t play simple games. The consequences of her actions were severe, at times a matter of life and death. I couldn’t take her deathbed request lightly. It was both a morbid curiosity and the drive to honor my promise that had brought me here.
“You too, Tetyana,” said Katy, turning to her next. “Don’t deny it. I’ve known you two for too long for you to lie to me. We’re here because you want action again.”
Tetyana looked away.
But Katy wasn’t done.
“Asha, this is exactly why you keep putting off your wedding. David wants nothing more than to get married, but you keep avoiding the topic.”
Those words stung, but I knew they hurt because she was right. My best friend Katy knew me better than I did myself.
“Thanks for reminding me,” I stammered, pulling my phone out. “I have to call him or he’ll start getting worried.”
While I texted David to let him know we got to our destination, Katy called her eight-year-old daughter who was spending the week with her father, Peace.
I’d just hit send when Tetyana pointed to something on the far end of the grounds.
“I thought I saw someone over there.”
We peered out the window. There was a wooden structure a few yards away from the main house. In the distance, I thought I heard a horse neigh. The noise was muffled, like it came from inside the building.
“What is that? A barn?” I asked.
A light came on in the house. We all turned our attention back to it.
A woman’s profile showed up against a window on the third floor. She pulled back the sheers, looked out for a moment and let the curtains fall back in place again, before withdrawing. Just as it had turned on, the light turned off.
Mrs. Robinson?
I had no idea what she even looked like.
Something told me it wasn’t her, but then, who would it be?
“All right everyone,” said Tetyana, her hand going to her door. “Are we going to sit here and ruminate all night or go in and talk to these people?”
I opened my door, gripping the handle tightly so the wind wouldn’t slam it back on me.
“Just remember,” said Tetyana before I got out. “I need to know where you are at all times. I’ll be right behind you when you need me, okay?”
“Roger that,” said Katy and I at the same time.
The sound of wind chimes clanging wildly came from somewhere. I wrapped my arms around myself as the icy wind swirled around me, nipping at my face.
There was a massive wooden double door at the front of the mansion. But on the east end of the house was a smaller single door. The windows near it were all lit up.
Someone was in there. I was sure of it.
Even from here, I could make out the copper pots hanging from the high ceiling.
The kitchen.
“This way,” I said as I walked toward the side entrance.
The loose gravel under our feet crunched as we walked toward the door while the wind whipped the wind chimes into a frenzy. They clanged louder and louder, sounding like warning bells, telling us to get back in the car and head home.
I shook my head to clear it. I had a job to do.
Katy grabbed my arm as something small and furry scurried in front of us.
“What was that?” she gasped.
“A rodent,” said Tetyana. “A big one.”
“That was a cat,” I said, eying the mangy stray animal scampering behind the truck to hide. “Looks sick. Poor thing.”
We were at the kitchen door now.
The side door was discolored from being exposed to the elements and barely hung on its hinges. From up close, I could now see the house was badly in need of repair.
I looked up at the other floors, wondering what this place looked like in daylight. It appeared imposing in the dark and from afar, but maybe it wasn’t in as good condition as I thought.
Katy pushed me aside.
“Let me,” she whispered.
She lifted her hand to knock.
Her knuckles barely touched the wood when the door flew open.
Katy sprang back with a shriek, trampling on my feet and almost bowling me over.
Chapter Seven
A woman in her sixties stood on the threshold.
She was dressed in a shin-length skirt, a mauve shirt and a small pearl necklace. Perched on her head was a pair of eyeglasses linked to a silver chain.
“Right on time,” she said with a friendly smile.
I recognized that deep voice from the phone call.
Katy blushed. “I’m so sorry I screamed. I hadn’t even knocked when the door....”
The woman waved dismissively.
“Come inside, girls,” she said. “It’s brisk outside tonight.”
We trooped inside after her.
It was an open kitchen with high ceilings we’d wal
ked into, one built decades ago, but that had never been renovated.
The vintage stove and curvy refrigerator were throwbacks from the sixties. The apple-green cabinets were peeling and the cherry-red kitchen stools were something I’d have expected at a retro diner, not in this massive mansion.
The only modern item in the kitchen was a designer knife block which sat on the counter near the sink. The distinctive blood-red-handled knives would stand out in any kitchen. I could swear I’d seen them in a late-night TV infomercial once. I’d even considered buying them for my bakery.
Now that we were inside the house, I could see this place needed work. A lot of work.
“How quaint,” whispered Katy as we walked past the old Formica counter. Katy had spent twenty-five thousand dollars upgrading her New York apartment kitchen with the latest stainless-steel appliances and granite counters, so I knew that wasn’t a compliment.
But I liked this place.
Though that sense of foreboding I’d felt when I first spotted this house from the woods below hadn’t left me, this kitchen was comforting. It was like returning to a childhood home to meet family and have apple pie and tea.
An old wooden rocking chair sat in the corner next to a fireplace. I could imagine Mrs. Robinson sitting there, knitting a warm woolen scarf.
A large pot of stew was simmering on the stove, and the smell of a pie baking came from the antique oven. I loved food, and I loved cooking even more, so the sights and smells here instantly lifted my mood.
I looked at the woman leaning against the counter, regarding us curiously. Her face was kind and her eyes were sincere.
“Mrs. Robinson, I presume?” I asked with a smile.
“You must be Asha Kade,” she replied, her wrinkled eyes looking intensely at me. “I knew you’d come. Madame Bouchard told me you always came when someone called for help.”
“Madame Bouchard?” I resisted the urge to look at my friends. “You knew her?”
The woman’s eyes wrinkled some more.
“Only too well, my dear.”
“How?” I said, unable to hide my curiosity.
Mrs. Robinson raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
Merciless Legacy: Merciless Murder - A Thrilling Closed Circle Mystery Series Page 3