“Right here,” he said. “I don’t suppose that was you.”
“No,” she said. Her voice sounded faint, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “No.”
“Kirkland would have said something,” Sully said. “Come on. If your friend from the tunnels is trying to trap us, he’s going to seal up both doors. Our only chance is to get out of the top one first.”
Sully hurried up the remaining stairs, and Lindsey followed him. He shone the small penlight all along the edges of the door, looking for a latch. There was nothing.
Frantic that their captor was almost upon them, Lindsey felt along the door where she thought a door handle would be. She found a knob protruding out of the wooden door. She turned it and pushed. Nothing happened. She turned it the other way and pulled. The door gave way, and she toppled into Sully. The smell of stale air evaporated as they stepped into an upper bedroom. A cold breeze was blowing, and Lindsey realized it was the same room where she and Sully had fought the fire when Chief Plewicki had inadvertently tripped one of the brothers’ booby traps.
“Thank goodness.” Lindsey sucked in a lungful of the cold air. “I was getting just the teensiest bit claustrophobic.”
Sully did the same. The room was as cluttered as the rest of the house, but the windows let in plenty of outside light, making it easy for them to navigate through the boxes and bags and piles of clutter.
Sully quietly closed the door behind them. Like in the kitchen, this secret door was built into the wall and disguised as a bookcase. The only clue that it was a door was the fact that there was no clutter blocking it and the traffic pattern that matted the carpet in front of it.
“If we hide, we might be able to convince him that we’re still stuck in there,” Sully whispered. He took Lindsey’s hand and led her across the room.
There was a large wardrobe along one wall, and Sully pushed Lindsey into its shadows while he went and tucked himself in behind the bedroom door. When the killer came into the room, she had no doubt that Sully planned to jump him.
She remembered the feel of the man’s hand on her ankle. He had been strong, and although he hadn’t used one down in the tunnel, he could very well be armed with a knife or a gun. She didn’t like this plan, not at all. She glanced around her looking for any sort of weapon. When Sully jumped him, she could take the opportunity to bash the man on the head, assuming she could find something heavy enough to wield. A quick scan of what was in reach told her that her options were limited to a pile of musty old feather pillows or a broken accordion. Not encouraging.
She listened for the sound of footsteps, the creak of a door or the sound of something being shifted out of the way. There was nothing. It was as if the entire house had gone absolutely still and was holding its breath with Lindsey as she waited.
A cold blast of air blew directly on her from the broken window. She burrowed into her coat and shoved her hands into her pockets for warmth. The end of her nose felt cold, as did the tips of her ears. It was miserable waiting to see what would happen, but she was also relieved that no one had shown up. She began to think the bad guy had gotten scared and bolted from the island.
As the minutes ticked by, she became more hopeful. She was about to lean out from her spot beside the wardrobe and ask Sully if it was time to call it when she heard the distinctive sound of a footfall coming from the wooden floor of the hallway just outside the bedroom. Lindsey felt her hope do a free fall in her chest as dread shoved it aside. She closed her eyes, trying to center herself before . . . BAM!
There was a crash, a grunt and the sound of a body hitting the floor.
“Ow! What the—hey, it’s me!”
“Oh, sorry.”
Lindsey recognized Kirkland’s voice and jumped around the wardrobe just in time to see Sully helping him to his feet. He had clearly taken Kirkland out at the knees in a tackle that had caused the other man to crash into an old sewing machine stand that was buried in bolts of fabric.
“Are you all right?” Sully asked. He looked Kirkland over for injuries, but Kirkland waved him off.
“I’m fine. You just surprised me. Hey, whoa!” Kirkland cried out as Sully did a slow fall forward into his arms. Kirkland staggered under his dead weight and slowly lowered him to the ground.
“Sully!” Lindsey cried.
She raced forward to kneel beside him. A nasty knot was forming on the back of his head. She glanced up at the door to see the man in the dark puffy coat who had chased her, standing there holding a statuette of some sort in his hand.
“Nobody move,” the man ordered. “Or I’ll clobber you, too.”
Without hesitation, Officer Kirkland snatched his gun out of his holster.
“Drop it!” he ordered. “Do it now!”
“A gun?” the man asked, dropping the statue, which made a loud thunk onto the box beside him. Clearly, it was a weighted piece and would do damage to the thickest skull. “You brought a gun to loot a house? What sort of town is this?”
“Loot it?” Officer Kirkland asked. He looked deeply offended and pulled aside his coat and showed the badge on his chest. “I’m a police officer.”
“Oh.” The man’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Arrest them! They’re trying to rob the place.”
“What?” Lindsey cried. She was cradling Sully’s head in her lap, otherwise she would have gotten up and given the man a piece of her mind. As it was, she snapped at him from her kneeled position on the floor, “I’m not a thief. I’m a librarian.”
The man clapped a hand to his forehead with one hand and pointed to Sully with the other. “What’s he then, a fireman?”
“Boat captain, actually,” Kirkland answered.
“What are you doing in my family’s house?”
Lindsey and Kirkland exchanged a look. She shook her head at him to indicate that she had no idea what the man was talking about. There were only two Rosens, Peter and Stewart.
Kirkland nodded and waved his gun at the man. “Put your hands on your head and keep them where I can see them.”
The man complied, and Lindsey felt Sully rouse. She glanced down to find him blinking and slowly shaking his head. He glanced at her and then gently reached up to feel the knot on the back of his head.
“Ouch,” he said.
“I’ll bet,” Lindsey said. “Let me see your eyes.”
Sully glanced up, and she checked his pupils to make sure they were even and not dilated, a sign of a concussion. They were good, and for a second she found herself getting lost in his brilliant baby blues.
“Well? How is he?” Kirkland asked.
“He’s okay,” Lindsey said. She glanced at the man standing with his hands on his head and frowned. “For now. We’ll have to keep an eye on him to make sure he stays that way.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” the man said to Sully. He looked pained, and his features were tight with contrition. “I thought you were looters, and I’m trying to protect my family’s home.”
“Your family? The only two people with a claim on this place are Stewart and Peter Rosen, and you are about forty-five years too young to be either of them,” Sully said. He started to rise, and Lindsey took his arm and helped him to his feet.
“My name is Steven Rosen-Grant. I’m their nephew,” the man said. He dropped his hands as if to reach for his wallet, but Kirkland gestured at him with the gun to keep his hands on his head.
Kirkland looked at Lindsey, and she turned to Sully. “Can you stand on your own?” He nodded, and she let go of his arm and stepped forward. Kirkland held the gun pointed at the man and said, “Turn around and keep your hands where I can see them or I will shoot you.”
The man did, and Lindsey took his wallet out of his back pocket and handed it to Kirkland.
“You can turn around now,” Kirkland said. He flipped the wallet open, and they all looked at the Illinois state driver’s license, whi
ch showed a picture of the man before them and the name Steven Rosen-Grant, just as he’d said.
“IDs can be faked,” Sully said. “And the name Rosen isn’t that unusual. We’ll need more than this for proof.”
“Agreed. What do you have there?” Kirkland gestured to the bag on the floor beside the man’s feet
The man shifted uncomfortably but kept his hands on his head. “I can explain.”
“Criminals always can,” Kirkland said.
“I’m not a criminal! My grandmother had an affair with Dr. Rosen and became pregnant with my mother, Gabrielle Rosen, but when he died, his miserable wife cut my grandmother off without a penny. Whatever I am taking, it is much less than my grandmother or my mother deserved,” the man said.
His hood had been pushed back when he put his hands on his head, and Lindsey could see that he looked to be in his mid to late thirties. His face was just beginning to show signs of middle age with a softening of the jawline and wrinkles at the corners of his brown eyes. He had precisely cut dark hair that framed his ears, which stuck out on the top just a little. Lindsey gasped. His ears were just like Stewart and Peter Rosen’s.
She shoved the thought away. Ears that stuck out were not proof of anything. She glanced at Sully and Kirkland. Their ears didn’t stick out. Still, it didn’t prove anything.
“Family or not, there is a proper way to go about claiming your inheritance, and robbing the place isn’t it,” Kirkland said.
“I wasn’t—” the man protested but then stopped. He glared at them and said, “Fine, whatever.”
Kirkland gestured for the man to turn around. “Let’s go. I’m taking you in.”
The man sent a panicked glance at the bag, and Lindsey got the feeling that there was something important to him in there.
“We should take the bag,” she said. “He must have left fingerprints on some of the things, which would verify his identity.”
“And prove that he was robbing the place,” Kirkland said. “Grab it, would you?”
Lindsey nodded.
“I wasn’t—” the man protested, but Kirkland cut him off.
“Save it for the chief,” he said.
Kirkland and their captive led the way out of the room. Lindsey took off her scarf and grabbed the duffel bag that had been on the ground. She knew that it was unlikely that fingerprints would be found on the fabric, but still, she didn’t want to risk damaging any evidence if this was indeed the man who had killed Peter Rosen.
The bag was heavier than she expected, and it slipped from her grip. She cried out as an item toppled out of its open zipper. Sully dropped to his knees and caught the loosely wrapped bundle before it smashed on the floor.
Lindsey dropped the bag and grabbed Sully as he listed to the side. She helped him stand, and he propped himself against the doorframe and smiled down at her.
“I’m okay, just a little dizzy,” he said. He held out the bundle to her, and Lindsey let the pale blue velvet fabric slide from the object in her hands.
It was a purple satin egg-shaped music box with gilt edges. The top was loose, and when it popped open, a waltz chimed while the tiny porcelain man and woman on the inside spun in a slow circle. Lindsey turned it to get a closer look at it, and a small key fell out into her hand. She held it up to examine it and saw that it had teeth on both sides. She frowned.
She glanced at Sully and saw Kirkland and Steven Rosen-Grant had stopped and turned back and were looking at the key as well.
“That’s a safe-deposit box key,” Kirkland said. “I take my grandmother to her box at the bank every now and then, and hers looks just like that one.”
He turned to look at his captive. “Did you know that was in there?”
Steven closed his mouth. “I refuse to talk without representation.”
“That can be arranged,” Kirkland said. “Pack it up, Lindsey. Let’s go.”
Lindsey closed the lid on the music box. The tune stopped playing. She wondered why it sounded so familiar, and she opened the lid again hoping to place the sound. The beginning was unfamiliar, but then she recognized it. It was the exact same tune Stewart Rosen had been humming when he had come to the library the other evening.
“How did you know to take this box?” she asked Steven. “Who told you about it? Have you seen Stewart? Have you talked to him?”
Steven looked nonplussed, but then he turned his head away from her with a snap. But not before she saw a telltale red flush creep into his cheeks. Whatever Steven Rosen-Grant was, he was not a very good liar.
She pocketed the key. She didn’t want to risk losing it. Then she rewrapped the music box and put it in the bag. This time she zipped it up before hefting it onto her shoulder.
She took Sully’s arm and led him down the stairs. If he didn’t really need her help, he didn’t say so. Lindsey figured it was probably because he didn’t want to offend her, but she was glad, because she was worried about him navigating the stairs with that huge knot on his head.
For that alone, she wanted to put a hurt on Steven, but when she added in the fright he had given her by chasing her through the house, and the fact that he clearly knew something about Stewart, well, it was a good thing Kirkland was escorting him down the stairs and not her. She might not have resisted the urge to take a shortcut, meaning a nice thump to the middle of Steven’s back to send him down the stairs more quickly.
When they got to the bottom of the steps, Kirkland cut across the foyer and stopped by the front door.
“Are you responsible for blocking it?” he asked.
Steven shrugged. “I thought you were burglars, and I didn’t want you to get away.”
“Hmm,” Kirkland said. “Well, now you can show us an alternate exit.”
“There’s a back door off of the kitchen,” Steven said.
They followed him through the house. A mudroom was tucked into the back of the kitchen, and it was here that Steven led them. When they got to the door, Sully made them stop while he checked the door and the steps for traps.
“I wouldn’t lead you into a trap,” Steven said.
Sully stared at him. “The knot on my head tells me otherwise.”
“I said I was sorry,” Steven said. He sounded irritated. “What are you all doing here anyway?”
“Looking for my cart of books,” Lindsey said. “I brought a box full of books out here the day we discovered Peter’s . . . er . . . the day that Peter was killed, and I accidentally left it here.”
Steven glared at her. “Right.”
It was clear that he didn’t believe one word she said. Lindsey glared right back. After all, she was partly telling the truth, and at least she hadn’t clocked anyone on the head.
With a click, the latch on the back door was released and Kirkland pushed it open. Sully and Lindsey both tensed, as if waiting for another swinging board to greet them with some nails to the face, but there was nothing.
Lindsey felt the breath leave her lungs in a whoosh. Sully leaned down and kissed the top of her head. It was a gesture that reassured, but Lindsey was afraid he’d keel over, and she clutched his arm more tightly.
“I’m okay,” he said. “My head has the density of granite.”
She glanced up at him and smiled while checking his pupils at the same time. He chuckled, letting her know that he knew what she was doing.
They followed Kirkland and Steven around the side of the house, and Lindsey was relieved that they were on the familiar and trap-free path that led from the house to the dock below.
“So, did you want me to drive the boat?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “At least, not until we’re away from the island, and only if you want to, not because you have to do it for me.”
At the upper deck, Lindsey glanced back at the house. She wondered if she should have locked the back door. It s
eemed like it, but really, who was going to come out here, and if they did, they had to get past all of the refuse in the yard first.
“It’ll be okay,” Sully said.
“It just feels wrong,” she said.
“Everything about this feels wrong,” he agreed.
At the police station, Kirkland led Steven Rosen-Grant to an interview room in the back. Emma was moving around in a wheelchair with one leg elevated and jutting out like the prow of a ship. She took out two plastic chairs and the trash can as she made her way toward them across the main room.
“Damn it,” she said. “I need a cowcatcher or at least a chair catcher on the front of this thing. Are you two all right? Kirkland gave me the short version on the phone, but I’d like to hear what you two know.”
“It’s a long story,” Sully said. “You have any coffee made?”
“And a bag of ice,” Lindsey said and gestured to his head.
Emma’s eyebrows raised, and she turned to Molly Hatcher, her administrative assistant. “Are you free to handle that?”
“Giddy-up,” Molly said. She winked at Lindsey, who grinned in return. Molly had a thing for cowboys, and she was partial to Lori Wilde’s romance novels set in Texas. Lindsey knew without asking to put Molly’s name down as soon as the release dates were announced.
Molly rose from her desk at the front of the room, turned and headed toward the back of the station.
“Ice?” Emma asked.
“A precautionary measure only,” Sully said.
Lindsey took the opportunity to check his eyes again, but they were fine.
“You don’t feel woozy, do you?” she asked.
“No. Hungry? Yes. Woozy? No,” he said.
“Come on back, then,” Emma said. “Ian brought over a huge pot of clam chowder. I think it was out of pity for me in my wheelchair, but I’m not complaining if it gets me free chowder.”
They followed her down a narrow hallway. Although she rammed the side of the wall twice, Lindsey knew better than to offer to push Emma. Because Sully said nothing, she suspected he knew better, too.
A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery Page 19