Evidence in the Echinacea

by Dale Mayer

  She cried out in joy, “It is the same, isn’t it? That means the set is complete.” She turned back and looked up at him in awe. “You know what that means?”

  “I’m assuming it means the set is worth a lot more money now that all the pieces are found. But he’ll come back. And then, while he’s here, have him take a good look at all this.”

  “He’ll tell me to move it so he can really take a good look.”

  “True enough,” Mack said. “So, the only way to handle this is to fill your dining room and your living room again.”

  She shook her head. “But it’s not as simple as that. How could these pieces have been brought down here? Not from the living room or the dining room. Not through that basement door and those basement stairs we just took.”

  He looked at the wall nearest the living room and said, “Another interesting point is that I don’t see that space under the living room floorboards. This area is all under the kitchen.”

  She turned toward the kitchen and said, “Is that a door over there?”

  Mack made his way back to the stairs and, on the left side of the stairs, there appeared to be another door. He moved furniture so he could get that open, and, sure enough, on the other side was a cement floor and cement walls. He turned on a light and said, “This is an old cold room, like an indoor root cellar. But it does lead under the living room.” And, sure enough, there was the hole in the ceiling.

  “So why did they have a hole in the living room floor and no stairway?” Doreen asked in confusion.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He looked around the area and said, “I see shelves of canning jars, all kinds of old pieces of equipment in here. Looks like your grandmother might have been collecting old kitchen equipment. I think that’s a butter churn,” he said, pointing to a big wooden stand.

  She looked at it and sighed. “Is this more junk then?”

  “Everything here appears to be metal or the cheaper wood stuff, not the antique wood items, so it’s like that first basement area was a safe room for the good stuff, and this was for other stuff.”

  He shone his flashlight around some of the shelves, highlighting where the light didn’t reach, and said, “Definitely a lot of interesting things from other eras are here.”

  “And yet, you don’t see a folder or file full of paperwork, do you?”

  He said, “Give me a minute.” He dug through some of the shelving while she stood back, looking at the room. It was about the length of the house but narrow, maybe twelve feet wide, with shelves all along one side and then one end had a couple big freestanding items, right below where the living room hatch opened up. She just didn’t understand why that stairless opening was fully supported and framed. Obviously it had been an opening so someone could either drop things into or hop down through, but there was no ladder.

  Finally Mack stepped back and said, “You finally got into your basement.”

  She laughed at that. “Yes, now all I need is to get a bunch of this stuff upstairs.” She looked at some of the furniture and said, “Do you think any of that would have gone up those stairs?”

  “Chances are most of what you’re seeing will fit in this stairwell,” he said. “It’s not narrow, and anything with legs might come apart.” He pointed to several tables stacked up on the side. “Those have no legs, so let’s hope the legs are around here.”

  She shook her head. “There’s got to be like eight tables, just tabletops on top of each other. How on earth will I ever get rid of all of those?”

  “I don’t know, but we have to sort out some of this. I can do a few trips right now with some of the bigger items, but, if these are antiques, we’ll need somebody else to come in and help because we can’t lift some of them up and around the corners.”

  She agreed with him on that. “The door at the top of the stairs isn’t all that wide either.”

  “No.” Then he stopped and said, “Hey, another set of stairs is over there, and they look wide.”

  She peered into the far back of the room. “How could you possibly have seen those?”

  “I’m thinking they might come from the garage. That would make more sense, that the items could be unloaded, moved down here, and not go through the living room.”

  “Nan must have started storing everything down here, and, when she ran out of room, she filled the garage.” Doreen raised both hands in frustration. “That’s just crazy. At what point did she stop?”

  “When she ran out of room, apparently,” he said, laughing.

  She shook her head. “I can take a few photos of some pieces close by and send them to Scott, but I especially need photos of that dresser. Any chance we can open it and see if the drawers are full or empty?”

  Mack squirmed back through everything to reach that corner again. He leaned over at an angle and pulled open the top drawer. “There’s stuff in this one,” he said. He opened a couple more. “These all have clothes so far, but I don’t know what’s in the top one.” He reached in and pulled out a thick folder.

  She cried out, “Please, let that be provenance paperwork.”

  “Maybe, but why the heck would it be down here where she can’t reach it? Give me your phone. Let me take some photos of the dresser itself.” He handed the folder to her while accepting her phone in exchange.

  She flipped through the paperwork, struggling to understand the mix of old bills, insurance documents, and even letters. Even if the paperwork she was looking for was here, the right receipts wouldn’t be easy to find in this unorganized mess. And likely wasn’t all of it either. If any of it …

  Mack took several photos of the tallboy and then, from his vantage point, took several of the entire room. Afterward he walked back to the cold room and took photos of a lot of the pieces in there. When he returned, he handed Doreen her phone and said, “Maybe take a few of some of these maker marks on the inside of these chairs and that big hutch over there.”

  She did as he asked, remembering what Scott had said about how important that was.

  “We need to go back upstairs, and I’ll close that hatchway before one of your animals finds it,” Mack said and proceeded to close the cold room and then led the way back up the stairs, where he closed the trapdoor in the living room floor. “It’s very interesting that they had this,” he said thoughtfully. “I wonder if that other room sealed itself up. Somehow the wood twisted or whatever, and the door couldn’t be opened so they put an opening in here.”

  “I have no idea,” Doreen said. “It feels like WWII, when they hid the Jews from the Nazis, but this is Kelowna, Canada. We didn’t have anything like that.”

  “No, but some of the local history speaks about how things here were still pretty difficult with the Japanese. So, who knows? We could do some looking into the history of the property. I suggest you ask Nan.”

  “Maybe,” she said, “but, for the moment, I’ll just set it aside. I have plenty to sort out and have a hard-enough time getting straight answers from Nan.” At his curious stare, she said, “Typical Nan stuff, evasive answers. Plus I don’t want to give her too many tangents to run off with.”

  But, having said that, she walked through the living room into the kitchen and straight back to where the garage door was. Mack followed. She opened the door and pointed into the overpacked garage. “Do you really think an access point is in here?”

  He stepped forward. “Yes,” he said, “big double doors are right here.” He pointed where the doors were snug against the wall. “This is a custom modification. And explains why your garage appears to be a little smaller on the inside.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “We’ll see where that’ll take us, but no way we can get all that furniture out of the basement without coming up this direction, and, for that, we’ll have to clean out the garage.”

  He closed the interior door slowly and in a firm tone said, “And that we’ll leave for the weekend. We’ll see some garage sales, take a look at what’s happening, and then we’ll c
ome back. We’ll open up that big double door, and we’ll start sorting. If there is actual garbage in the garage, then maybe we’ll rent a Dumpster.”

  She just looked at him and said, “Do you know the cost of that?”

  “Do you know the cost of what it would be to not have that tallboy go as part of the set?” he asked.

  “No, but Scott needs to see it clearly before he can determine that.” She frowned. “Do you think we can maneuver it up the stairs?”

  “I’m not sure, but it could be damaged that way.”

  “But it’s in the very back of the basement,” she complained. “It’ll be a pain to get out of there.”

  “We don’t know that,” he said. “So, first, let’s get food. Then we’ll worry about it.”

  Just as she headed back into the kitchen, her phone rang. Distractedly she answered. “Hi, Nan.”

  “Hi,” Nan said. “Take another look at George.”

  “George? Why would I take a look at George? He’s dead.”

  “There were rumors he killed someone in Penny’s family.” And, with that, Nan hung up.

  Chapter 20

  Wednesday Early Evening …

  Doreen put her phone down on the kitchen table.

  “What was that?” Mack asked.

  “Nan just said there were rumors George killed someone in Penny’s family. We know both her father and brother are dead, her brother from his father’s abuse, … leaving her father who maybe George killed?”

  “Not that I put any stock into rumors …” He frowned. “I could take a look at the police reports. Although, just because Nan says there are rumors, that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “No,” she said. “I hear you. At the same time, it could be something important. Like … maybe George killed the brother, by accident or by design?”

  “What difference would it make now?” Mack asked, sighing. “George is dead. It’s hardly something we can prosecute. And, even if her father was charged with a crime that maybe he didn’t commit, and yet, served time for it, he has also passed away. So no retribution could be made, if any is deemed necessary.”

  “Penny’s father was very abusive,” Doreen admitted. “So I’m not sure any of it makes any difference.” She shrugged and smiled. “But what does make a difference is if we can get some food.”

  He chuckled and said, “It’s almost ready. I’ll chop up the salad greens.”

  “Lovely. That means food in a few minutes,” she said. “I’m starved.” But, she had to admit, her mind felt completely overwhelmed by the time they sat down.

  “Outside of hunger,” he said quietly, “are you okay?”

  She looked at him, wondering. “I feel like I need a vacation,” she announced.

  He chuckled. “How about a few days of downtime? That might do it.”

  She nodded. “Since I’ve arrived here, it’s been go, go, go. Just one thing after another.”

  “And whose fault is that?” he asked, pointing a finger at her. “Slow down and stay out of trouble. It’s not all that simple right now for you.”

  “I know,” she said. “I just know something’s wrong.”

  “Something’s wrong where?” he asked in exasperation.

  She sighed. “With Penny. That’s just more pressure on me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She walked over to where she’d placed the journal and brought it back.

  He looked at it and said, “What’s that?”

  “It’s from George,” she said, “and it’s odd ramblings. But his last line is very worrisome.”

  Mack read it and said, “Outside of the fact it shows George was distraught, which we knew, this doesn’t really mean anything.”

  “It might not mean anything, but what I was wondering, and I guess it’s an option now, was what if he did kill somebody. And maybe, … maybe Penny didn’t have anything to do with George’s death. Maybe he committed suicide.”

  Mack closed the journal with a snap and said, “Stop. Your mind is overwhelmed. Everything is just too much, and you’re making a big deal out of this. George is gone, whether he did it by his own hand or he had help. Obviously I care if he had help, but we can’t worry about the fact that he may have done this on his own. He was dying. We already know he had a heart condition. For decades, he was distraught over his missing brother, and, for all you know, things weren’t all that great with his marriage. And maybe something there was a final straw. But how much of this is anything that you can control or that you have any right to get involved in?”

  She knew he was right, but it was still hard to let go of it.

  Chapter 21

  Thursday Morning …

  Waking up the next morning, Doreen rolled over and groaned. She couldn’t remember the last time her body ached the way it did now. In the back recesses of her mind she remembered reading something about the second day after working out was the worst, and today was certainly the second day after the hard Tuesday she’d spent. But she’d also worked hard on Wednesday, so that didn’t bode well for tomorrow either. However, a hot shower might help.

  She staggered to her feet, wincing at the pain, and decided maybe instead of a shower, a bath. But that would take a long time, and she wasn’t up for soaking. She really wanted coffee and didn’t have a clue what to do about the basement. It was time to have a serious talk with Nan.

  Doreen opted for standing under the hot shower water for a good ten minutes, letting the heat beat down on her sore shoulders. She washed her hair, rinsed it, and then, after she dried off, she tied it into a braid.

  Feeling a bit better, she got dressed, hating the fact that her bedroom was still this chaotic. She would spend a few hours to finish off that dratted closet and then find a way to maybe get another dresser in here from among all that stuff in the garage or in the basement, so she had something to hold her clothes. It was ridiculous, with all the expensive furniture she had just moved out of this place, to realize she now needed practical stuff to store things away in her bedroom. There was the set of shelves she’d emptied. She eyed that one, wondering if she should put it in the back of the closet and maybe use that to put her folded stuff on—or at least her shoes.

  Dressed, with the animals looking like they felt as awful as she did—at least Goliath and Mugs—she headed downstairs. There, she found Thaddeus, roosting on his special perch in the living room, almost snoring as he appeared to be in such a deep sleep. “We’re all in need of a vacation,” she announced.

  She walked into the kitchen, put on her morning pot of coffee, and stared out at the backyard. A fine misty haze covered the sky, soaking everything. She groaned. “Today’s Thursday, and I work in the garden at Mack’s mom’s tomorrow. I sure hope this rain has stopped by then,” she said. “And I’ll never get my garden done.” As she looked at it now, for all the work that she put into Penny’s small bed, Doreen realized just how much it would take to get her huge backyard done.

  As she sat with her morning coffee, almost too tired to make breakfast, the file of paperwork that Mack had found at her side for when she had the energy to open it, her phone rang. She looked down and smiled. It was Nan. “I have fresh zucchini bread and bran muffins,” Nan announced in a sprightly voice. “If you haven’t had breakfast, come on down, and, if you have had breakfast, and you want to wait a little bit, these can wait until teatime.”

  “I’m still drinking my first cup of coffee,” Doreen admitted. “I slept like a log, but I’m not moving very well right now.”

  “Oh, dear, you’re still sore?”

  “I worked hard yesterday morning again,” she admitted. “So, yes, the answer is, I am still sore.”

  “Too sore to come down and have a fresh warm bran muffin covered in maybe butter and honey?” Nan coaxed.

  Doreen chuckled. “The fact that it means I have to get out of the house almost makes it too much,” she said, “but I haven’t eaten, and fresh bran muffins sound divine. Then so does zucchini
bread.”

  “It’s a pretty crappy-looking day out there. If you want to drive this time, I’d certainly understand.”

  Doreen had to stop and think about what a difference it would make to her, and then, of course, it hit her. If she drove, she wouldn’t normally take Goliath and Thaddeus with her but if she were only going to Nan’s she certainly could. But the walk might wake her up. “If we hurry, the walk shouldn’t be too bad.”

  “Well, finish your coffee, dear,” Nan said, “although you can have tea here. I don’t have coffee.”

  “I need my coffee,” Doreen admitted. “And, well, I do want to talk to you.”

  “Oh, that sounds serious,” Nan said. “Is it to do with Penny?”

  “Only if you have any information about Penny’s family growing up,” she said. “I can’t do any research if I don’t have better names and a sense of a particular year.”

  “Well, I gave you a bunch,” Nan said. “And not too many people know the details about her brother, just some hushed secret that her father killed him through his abuse. I don’t know if he died right away or lived in a coma for a few years and then died or what.”

  “Her father went to jail for it?”

  “Yes. So, in that case, you should be able to get his records off Mack.”

  She didn’t bother saying it was probably public record, and she could look it up. “I need some idea of years though,” Doreen said. “Any idea when any of this was?”

  “I’ll consider asking Maisie and see if anybody else around here knows. If you come soon, while I wait, I can take a look in the breakfast room and see if anybody there has information.”

  “I’ve finished my first cup of coffee,” Doreen said as she eyed the small pot she’d made and decided to pour herself the second cup. “I added a touch of cream to my coffee so it cools faster, but I’m really not too interested in racing down there until I’ve had my second cup. I’m not moving very fast at all.”