“I should think not, especially after what happened to Bill.”
I told her what Pete had said about the new tunnel being dug underneath some of the places where the old one had collapsed. “They think each of the tunnels must have several exits close to the waterfront, so that they could move things to and from their boats.” O’Ryan moved back to Aunt Ibby’s lap, turned around a couple of times, and lay down, facing me.
Tunnels. Old and new. Now would be a good time to tell her about the vision in the shoe.
I opened my mouth to tell her then, but she changed the subject. “Oh, Maralee. I don’t know if you’ve heard. Visiting hours for Bill will be tomorrow evening at the Murphy Funeral Home,” she said. “And the funeral mass will be Saturday at St. Thomas’s. Shall we go together?”
“We’ll go to the wake together for sure,” I said, “but I think I’ll ask Pete to come with me to the funeral.”
“That’ll be nice, dear,” she said. “Pete is such a fine man. How was your date tonight? Did you go anywhere interesting?”
“It was definitely interesting. We went to the movies first, and afterward, we went to Greene’s Tavern.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Very New England. They’ve done a good job with the decor, and they seem to be doing a brisk business,” I said. “All my students were there. Apparently, it’s become their favorite hangout.”
“I think you said one of them works there with her dad.”
“Yes, Kelly. Thom works there, too. Bartender.”
“Was Primrose there?” she asked.
“She was,” I said. “And the strangest thing happened. When we left the tavern, we saw a car following Primrose’s.”
“Are you sure? That’s frightening.”
“Pete said it was tailing her or one of the others in her car. She was driving Therese and Sammy back to the dorm.”
“Did he find out who was following her?”
“Sure. He checked the plate with the DMV, but he wouldn’t tell me who it was. He just said they were perfectly safe and not to worry.”
“But you worried, anyway.”
“I did. I feel responsible for them in a way. But I got a peek at a Boston address on Pete’s computer. Want to check it out? Maybe then I can understand why I’m not supposed to worry.”
She headed for the computer desk, dislodging O’Ryan, who uttered a disgruntled “hrumph,” and plopped himself lengthwise across my lap.
“Okay. Shoot. What’s the address?”
I repeated the address I’d seen on the computer screen. Within seconds she said exactly what Pete had said when he saw it.
“Hmm. That’s strange.”
“What’s strange? Who was it?” The cat was unceremoniously dumped a second time as I hurried across the room to look over her shoulder.
“Apparently,” she said, “the car that was following Primrose belongs to the United States Department of the Treasury.”
CHAPTER 16
What followed was what I guess they call a pregnant silence. My aunt and I looked at one another without saying a word.
The Treasury Department? Was that what the men in the basement of Trumbull’s meant by a “federal case”?
She spoke first. “I’m thinking,” she said, “that this has something to do with gold. Maybe the twenty-dollar gold pieces you mentioned earlier. The ones Tabitha might have given to the boat captain’s wife.”
“Really? You think a few gold coins given away back in the eighties would interest the government enough to follow people around now?”
“Could be.” She shut the computer down, and I followed her back to the couch. “And I think it might have to do with President Roosevelt, too. Franklin, not Teddy, just like Tabitha’s picture.”
“Roosevelt? But he died back in the forties.”
“Back in the Depression years, though, he recalled gold coins. People all over the country turned them in. It was the law.”
“It’s not against the law anymore,” I protested. “You can buy all the gold coins you want. The ads are on TV all the time.”
“I know. But for a long time it was illegal to own gold coins, and of course, not everybody turned theirs in. Some people hoarded them or shipped them out of the country.”
“People like the Trumbulls?” I asked.
“Not unlikely, from what I’ve learned about them so far,” she said. “Trouble seemed to follow that family.”
“Speaking of trouble, a couple of my students took an early morning stroll in the Tabby’s basement, and I’m afraid they may be in trouble because of it.”
“I should think they might be,” she said. “Isn’t there a guard there?”
“They got past him. So did I, a little later.” I repeated the story I’d told to Pete earlier.
Her look was disapproving. “So you’ve had another run-in with Chief Whaley?” she said. “And the federal fellow, too? Friedrich?”
“Afraid so. I’m hoping nothing comes of it.”
“I hope not, Maralee. That tunnel seems to be bad luck for everyone.”
O’Ryan had stretched his long body across the back of the couch, momentarily avoiding the possibility of being dumped from a lap. His head was positioned behind my left shoulder, and just as Aunt Ibby said, “Tunnel,” he leaned toward my left ear and said, quite plainly, “Nowww.” Maybe it sounded a lot like a regular meow, but I knew it meant “Now.” As in “Tell her about the vision and the keys. Now.”
So I did.
“Today I looked into the toe of the display shoe.” I blurted it out, barely pausing for breath. “The woman was there, with her back to me, the same way she’d been when I told her to stop last time. She faced me and held two keys out so I could see them clearly. There was an arched entrance, too, and brick walls. I’m sure it was the old tunnel. She beckoned to me to follow her, and she walked deeper into it, then turned a corner and was gone.”
I watched my aunt, trying to judge her reaction. For a moment she didn’t speak, and then she reached over and took my hands in hers. “I’m not surprised, Maralee, that you tried it again. I knew eventually you’d have to. I’ve been reading up on gazing, and apparently, according to experts in that sort of thing, if you can actually control it, some good may come of it, after all.”
“You think so? You approve of my using this . . . whatever it is?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t say I approve of it. I believe, though, that perhaps you need to explore it further. You were, for reasons I can’t begin to comprehend, granted this gift. It may possibly be something of value.”
I felt a warm rush of tears. I squeezed her hands. “Thank you for understanding.”
“I didn’t say I understand it, either.” She gave a wry smile. “But I do accept it as part of you, an extraordinary, mysterious part of the you I love so very much.”
“Thank you,” I said again.
O’Ryan returned to my lap, an expectant look on his furry face. “Oh, one thing I forgot to tell you about the vision . . . ,” I said. “There was a cat following the woman.”
“A cat,” she repeated softly. “And keys. Two of them, you say? And a woman in the tunnel, wearing a white dress and asking you to follow her.”
“That’s right. And later today, after River and I returned from the attic, I saw the same two keys on Mr. Pennington’s key ring.”
“Remarkable,” she said. “Do you think those are the ones the little girls had? The ones you told me about that opened the playhouse door and the toy box?”
“Maybe. Although River says that Tabitha told Megan that there were two sets of those keys and that Mary Alice has the other ones.”
“Mary Alice?”
“Tabitha’s daughter who drowned herself about sixty years ago.”
“So we’re all the way back to the attic ghosts,” she said. “Mary Alice would be the one in the confirmation dress.”
“Guess so,” I said. “Everything seems to lead back to thos
e rooms at the top of Trumbull’s. Even the twenty-dollar gold coins we think Tabitha gave away.”
“Right,” she said. “But, of course, Pete’s interested in learning about the Trumbull building in connection with what happened to Bill.”
“It would have to be something about the new tunnel, I suppose, since that’s the one Bill fell into.”
“Maybe it has to do with the gunrunning incident. They could have used the new tunnel for that. And that all happened years after the store had closed.” She had her wise expression firmly in place. “No wonder most of Salem thought the place was haunted. If there was activity going on inside the building at all hours, that certainly might explain some of the ghost stories circulating about lights and noises and spirit sightings, wouldn’t it?”
“You bet it would. And all they had to do in case anyone else ever went into the basement was pile all the mannequin parts back on top of the button.”
“Do you think Tabitha was aware of what was going on down there?” she asked. “I can hardly believe she’d have any part of such a thing.”
“She could have,” I said. “After all, she was still able to write cogent letters and carry on intelligent conversations with Megan.” I paused. “I feel as though we’ve been going around in circles. Don’t you?”
“Exactly,” my aunt agreed. “From attic to basement, from underground tunnel to rooftop apartment, from Bill’s silver coins to Tabitha’s gold ones. Where does it all lead?”
“I’ve been writing things down on index cards and shuffling them around,” I told her. “So far I haven’t been able to make sense of it all.”
“Everything leads to the Trumbulls, one way or another, I guess,” my aunt said. “Although none of them ever seem to leave any fingerprints. I like your index card idea. Maybe I’ll start a card file of my own and we can compare notes. Two heads are better than one and all that.”
“Fine idea,” I said. “Right now, though, my head just wants a nice soft pillow. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, dear. I think I’ll watch the late news,” she said, turning the TV sound back on. I’d just stepped into the front hall when she called me back to the den. “Maralee, look at this. Councilor Wilson is in the news again, cutting another ribbon.”
I returned to the couch, and together we watched as Jonathan Wilson smiled into the camera. “He doesn’t look or even sound like a newcomer,” I said. “He looks like genuine old Salem aristocracy.”
“Yes. Quite a handsome fellow, isn’t he?” she said. “He had relatives here. Inherited some property down near the Willows, I believe. He’d lived here for only about a year when he ran for the city council.” The news segment ended, and a dog food commercial prompted my aunt to hit the mute button once again.
“You said you voted for him,” I said. “He must have made a good impression.”
“Oh, yes. He won handily. He speaks well and seems to genuinely love Salem. He retired from some sort of big government job in Washington, so he knows all about government grants and such. He was instrumental in getting the grants for your school.”
“Since we’re going to be sharing index cards,” I said, “I have something on one of mine that concerns Jonathan Wilson.”
I told her about seeing Primrose and Mr. Wilson together at the restaurant.
“Odd,” she said. “They seem an unlikely couple, don’t they? What did Pete think?”
“I didn’t mention it to him. You said it was none of our business what she did or where she went,” I reminded her. “I’m quite sure neither of them noticed me, and I doubt that Pete saw them.”
“He’s very observant,” she said. “I don’t think that man misses much. He doesn’t tell you everything.”
I thought about that. He hadn’t even told me he’d seen me on video, coming down the stairs to Trumbull’s basement and confronting Chief Whaley, until I brought the subject up myself.
“You know, you’re absolutely right,” I told her. “I’m going to ask him if he saw them together. Maybe he’ll help me fill out that particular card.”
“Go along to bed, then, dear,” she said. “You’ve had a busy day. I’m going to stay up for a while and watch River’s show.”
I was surprised. “Really? I’ve never pictured you as a fan of vampire movies.”
She gave an apologetic shrug. “I guess I’ve acquired another guilty pleasure in my old age. Anyway, it’s not always vampires. Tonight she’s showing The Curse of the Werewolf. Oliver Reed is in it. Besides, that tarot thing she does is quite interesting.”
I gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, picked up the cat, and headed once again for the front stairs. “You’re an amazing woman, Aunt Ibby. Good night. Enjoy the movie.”
I slept well and set out for school in the morning, rested and looking forward to a productive day with my class. The weather was still cold, but the sun shone brightly. Aunt Ibby and O’Ryan waved to me from the living room window—the cat waving a paw with an assist from my aunt. The short walk to the Tabby was a pleasant one. Primrose, Sammy, and Therese were already in the classroom when I arrived. Primrose spoke up before I had a chance to take off my jacket.
“Hey, Lee. Was that you checking up on us last night, after we left the bar? The security guy was on the phone when we came in, telling somebody we were home safely.” She looked amused. “Were you playing mother hen?”
I wasn’t about to tell her that she was being tailed by the U.S. government, and that it was Pete who was on the other end of the call, so I admitted to being the nosy hen. “The roads were slippery, and you’d had a couple of beers. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I said.
“Oh, we weren’t embarrassed,” Therese said. “We thought it was cute.” She smiled. “And your boyfriend is totally cute, too.”
It was my turn to be embarrassed. I cleared my throat. “Well, then,” I said in my most professional teacher voice, “let’s get organized, shall we? The others should be here any minute.”
Kelly and Thom arrived together, with Duke close behind them.
“We aren’t late, are we?” Kelly sounded worried. “Did we miss anything?”
“Not at all,” I said. “These guys were early. After all, they live right upstairs.”
“My dad dropped us off,” Kelly said. “Thom spent the night at our place.”
Sammy looked up from a book that lay open on the table in front of him. “Spent the night, huh? Something going on with you two that we should know about?”
Thom rolled expressive eyes. “Don’t be stupid. It was late, and my ride home left without me.” He aimed an aggrieved look in Duke’s direction. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve slept on the Greenes’ couch. Probably won’t be the last.”
Duke slouched in his seat. “Sorry about leaving like that. Felt like I was going to puke, so I took off.”
“You could have called.” Thom sounded whiny.
Duke shrugged. “Sorry.”
“We’re all here now,” I said, “so let’s get started. Therese? Where did we leave off ?”
She leafed through a neat stack of printed sheets. “Primrose had just started to tell the story of Trumbull’s Department Store from Mr. and Mrs. Trumbull’s point of view.”
“Right,” Kelly said. “And we all agreed it’s a super way to tell about Salem’s history for the documentary.”
“It certainly is,” I agreed. “Primrose, how’s that coming along?”
“Got a little sidetracked, Lee, with this tunnel thing going on,” she said. “I got to wondering who was using the mechanical door and the new tunnel after the store was officially closed. So I did a little research.” She dropped her voice to a near whisper. “Some of those Trumbulls weren’t exactly Boy Scouts.”
“Did you dig up some dirt, Primrose?” Kelly wanted to know. “I love gossip—even if it’s about old dead guys.”
“Me too,” Thom said. “The documentary will be better if it’s not all goody-goody.”
“Well, gunrunning is kind of glamorous, isn’t it?” Kelly said. “Can’t we make it sound like they were Irish patriots or something like that?”
Primrose made an unladylike snorting noise. “It’s not glamorous, little girl. It’s illegal and stupid, and people get killed. The Trumbull family was right in the middle of it. And if that’s not enough, they were bootleggers in the thirties, and besides that, they even used to smuggle drugs.”
“What’s your source for all this?” I asked. “We can’t make claims that might be libelous. New England bootlegging seems to be common knowledge, but were any of the Trumbulls found guilty?”
According to Aunt Ibby, they hadn’t been, and it had taken her a day’s digging at the library to find Trumbull connections to any of the crimes. I knew Primrose had been in class all of the previous day and at Greene’s Tavern for much of the evening. When had she found time to dig up the information? And where?
“I told you I’m nosy,” she said with a toss of her platinum mane. “I ask questions. People in bars tell you all kinds of things.”
“If you heard all this in barrooms, Primrose,” Thom said, “I can tell you for sure that drunks make stuff up all the time. I ought to know. I listen to them every night.”
“Should I write all that down?” Therese wanted to know.
“Go ahead,” I told her. “But with a note to check further.”
“You’ll find out I’m right,” Primose said with a smile. “Sometimes being nosy is really useful.”
Sammy snapped the cover of his book shut. “Yeah,” he said. “And sometimes it can get you into big trouble.”
“You’re awfully quiet this morning, Duke.” I addressed the big man, who again occupied the chair behind the news desk. “Any thoughts on research methods?”
“No thoughts on anything,” he mumbled. “Hung over.”
Tails, You Lose (A Witch City Mystery Book 2) Page 13