When Sadie's shaking stopped, Justine poured a shot of whiskey into a glass and handed it to her friend. "Here, drink this. It'll help you catch your breath."
Sadie took several sips, then returned the empty glass with shaky hands. "I can feel him, Justine. Sure as you're standing there."
Justine studied her friend for a moment--she'd clearly been traumatized--then squeezed her hand in silent understanding. "The Garden Club's holding a meeting in the dining room. Do you think he's in there?" she asked. "Would you know him if you saw him?"
"I don't know," Sadie whispered. "I ain't been able to put a face to him yet. I'm scared, Justine," she confessed. "Real scared. This ain't like nothing that ever happened before. Maybe if I took a look at those folks it might come to me."
"All right, we'll go in," Justine agreed. "But, before we do, I want you to do something. If he's in there, promise me you won't make a scene. Don't say or do anything that will upset anybody because--" She was interrupted by Mrs. Milliron, who burst into the kitchen, pushing a cart stacked with dirty dishes.
The housekeeper took one look at Sadie's troubled face and stopped. "Is everything all right?" she asked. "Do you need me to call the doctor?"
Justine shook her head. "No, thanks. Sadie's had a bad spell, but she's all right now. We were just getting something to drink." She glanced at the trolley. "How are our guests doing? Is everything going smoothly without Mary and Jack being here?"
The housekeeper's face broke into a smile. "They're doing fine. I told Mr. Windom I could handle this bunch by myself, and I have. That was a good idea he had, inviting them to hold their meetings here. Maybe they'll come back every month. Catering to groups is a good way to bring in a little extra cash."
"I agree--as long as it doesn't overburden you. Lord knows you do the work of three people," Justine said. She glanced at the stack of dirty dishes. "Do you need any help?"
"Nah. I'll load the dishwasher later, once I clear out the dining room." The housekeeper mopped her forehead with the tip of her apron. "I think I'm going to take a break before Mr. and Mrs. Windom get back from the airport. I've been working non-stop since lunch, and I'm plum tuckered out."
"Well, you certainly deserve one," Justine said. "Why don't I keep an eye on the group while you relax for a few minutes? It's the least I can do."
"That would be real nice," Mrs. Milliron said as she eased her ample body into a chair. "Do you want anything before I finish up?"
Justine nudged Sadie off her chair. "No, we've had more than enough to eat, thanks." She edged past the table, not wanting to be drawn into another one of the housekeeper's 'little chats.' "I'll let you know when the group leaves," she promised while stepping into the hall.
As Sadie braced herself to enter the dining room, Justine placed a warning hand on her shoulder. "Remember what I said. If he's in there, don't say or do anything. Mary and Jack need this group's business, and we don't want to upset any of the guests. I want you to go in, stand in the back of the room for a couple of minutes, then come out. Understand?"
"I heard you. I ain't stupid," Sadie grumbled. "Quit treating me like a child." Under Justine's watchful eye, Sadie shuffled toward the back wall and stood beside the buffet table, unnoticed by all but a few of the guests.
Justine waited anxiously while her friend studied the sea of faces. Would Sadie know the brown man when she saw him? One thing troubled her--the room was mostly filled with women. What...what if he turned out to be a woman? Could that be why Sadie couldn't put a face to her fear? What would happen if he--or she--recognized Sadie first?
Justine's blood ran cold at the thought, and she wished they'd never started this journey. They should never have come back. A tight knot formed in her stomach, and her heart began to pound. What was taking Sadie so long? There were only ten, maybe fifteen people in the room; she ought to be done by now.
Just when Justine thought she'd scream from the tension, she saw Sadie turn and shuffle toward the door. Taking her cue, Justine followed her friend into the hall, forcing one rubbery leg in front of another. "Well? What did you see?" she asked.
Sadie shook her head in despair. "Nothing. I couldn't tell if he was there or not." Gnarled fingers latched on to Justine's arm as she hobbled down the hall. "Help me to my room," she mumbled. "I gotta get ready."
"Ready? For what?"
"To make my peace with God," Sadie answered in a grim voice. "It's almost time for me to die."
* * * *
Justine stood quietly next to Mrs. Milliron as the last of the Garden Club members opened their umbrellas and hurried through the pouring rain to their cars. Although her outward appearance remained clam, her nerves felt like frayed bits of electrical wire, and it was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling.
Was Sadie really going to die? That didn't even bear thinking about. What will I do then, Justine wondered? How will I survive without my long-time friend for company? It was all she could do to hold back her tears, and for the first time in her life, she felt alone and afraid, unable to cope.
She looked around and realized that Mrs. Milliron had disappeared into the back of the house. The rattle of pots and pans from the kitchen echoed in the long hallway; suddenly aware of her surroundings, Justine wondered how long she'd been standing there, lost in thought.
Taking a deep breath, she forced rubbery legs to carry her into the den, and sank into the nearest chair. She allowed herself five minutes to wallow in despair, then forced her mind to try to grasp what was happening. One thing was clear. She had to find a way to save Sadie. It suddenly dawned on her that Mary and Jack would know what to do. They were young, smart.
This couldn't wait until morning; it was too important. She'd tell them as soon as they got back. Once they knew Sadie thought the brown man had been one of tonight's guests, they'd figure out a way to stop Sadie's vision from turning into a grim reality.
At least none of the visitors had stayed over, which meant that the brown man had left the premises. Only problem was, he was bound to return, and the next time he showed up, they might not be able to stop him. Maybe Sadie was right. Maybe they should make their peace with God. Now--before it was too late.
25
Mary and Jack waited in the car while Dykes hurried to collect his baggage. The rain had stopped for the moment, but a continuous rumble of thunder warned of a second deluge. When five, then ten minutes passed without Dykes returning, Mary became impatient.
"Why don't you go see what's keeping him?" she asked. "He should've been out by now."
Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Give him a few minutes, Mary. He hasn't been gone that long."
"How long does it take to grab a suitcase?"
"He's probably making sure everything's locked."
"What's to lock? There's one door on the plane, and one emergency exit in the hangar. This is ridiculous."
"You know, you're beginning to sound a lot like you aunt."
Startled, she shot upright. "That's a terrible thing to say. Besides, I don't think I'm being unreasonable. The man went to get a suitcase, not overhaul the engine. How long does it take to open the luggage compartment, grab a bag, and leave? Five, ten minutes? He's been gone almost twenty. Maybe something's happened to him. Maybe he slipped and fell. Have you thought about that?"
Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. "All right, already. I'll go check. Jeeze."
She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, sweetie."
"It's a good thing I like you," Jack mumbled as he closed the door and strode over to the hangar door. He reappeared a few minutes later, carefully balancing two bags under each arm. Dykes followed, carrying two more. Jack groaned as he tossed the bags into the rear of the van, and Mary thought she heard the clunking of metal as the last of the suitcases were loaded.
What one earth was the man doing with five--no, make that six--suitcases? This was supposed to be an overnight trip, not a month's stay in Bermuda. Intrigued, she contained her curiosity unt
il both men were buckled in.
"Okay, I give," she said. "What's with the six suitcases? Do you always pack a complete wardrobe? Something to fit every occasion?"
Dykes burst out laughing. "Not hardly. Only one's a suitcase. The rest are my tools. Since some of them cost over two hundred bucks a piece, I'm not about to leave them in the plane for somebody to swipe. Even with airport security, tools have a way of disappearing. I keep them in carrying cases so I can cart them with me whenever I need to."
"Oh, I see," she murmured, even though she didn't. "Well, they'll be safe at the plantation. We can lock them in the shed."
"Uh, appreciate the offer, but no thanks. I'd rather keep them in my room, if that's okay. Guess old habits die hard."
"No problem," Jack chimed in before Mary could complain. "I know what you mean. The last hammer I bought cost me fifteen bucks; I imagine your stuff would cost a fortune to replace."
"Yeah, something like that," Dykes agreed. "Uh, I don't mean to change the subject, but ever since you told me you found some kind of tunnel at the plantation, I've been dying to ask you about it. How big is it? Where does it lead?"
"We think it's part of the Underground Railroad slaves used during the Civil War," Jack explained. "The plantation must have been one of the hiding places runaway slaves used on their way up north. They probably hid in the tunnel during the day, then paddled up river under the cover of darkness. The river's about a hundred yards behind the house, so that makes sense. I stumbled across the tunnel opening last week when I was replacing the workshop floor," Jack explained. "Mary found one part of the tunnel about a year ago, but a big section of it had already caved in. Because it was under the house, our insurance company wanted it filled in. Said there was too much danger of the walls collapsing and somebody getting hurt. I think this is the other end, but I had to wait until we finished shoring it up before I could check it out. They were supposed to finish this afternoon, so with any luck, I can check it out in the morning. If you're really interested, maybe I'll let you take a look around."
"Jack, that's not such a great idea," Mary warned. "I don't think any of our guests should be allowed in the tunnel. It could be dangerous; Mr. Dykes might get hurt."
"Don't be a wet blanket, Mary," Dykes chimed in. "I'd love to check it out. If you're worried about my suing you, I'll sign a waiver of liability that says I entered the tunnel at my own risk, and you're not liable for any injuries or mishaps. Maybe there's something buried down there. Did you find anything in the other part? Gold, silver, hidden jewels?" Dykes teased.
"I wish. It was empty," Mary lied. "There's nothing buried there because slaves were the only ones who used it. They weren't allowed to own anything of value. We tried using a metal detector, but nothing showed up. More than likely Jack's tunnel will have the same results."
"Even if you don't find anything, the tunnel could still be a great draw for guests. It might even have some historical value," Dykes suggested. "You could 'spiff it up' and give tours."
"No way," Mary said vehemently. "As soon as Jack checks it out, we're going to have it filled in. It would be too easy for somebody to get hurt in there."
"Pity. Well, at least you can show your guests where the opening was, even if they can't go inside. That should make for some lively dinner discussions."
"Did we tell you we have a real Voodoo priestess staying with us?" Mary asked, adroitly switching the discussion to a safer topic. "Her name's Sadie, and she actually lived in the house until the owner died and his heirs put it up for sale. Now that it's been restored, she's come back for a visit."
Dykes leaned forward and grasped the back of Mary's seat. "No shit? Does she hold Voodoo rituals? Maybe we can sneak in and watch one. I hear they're something to see."
Mary shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but Sadie's too old for Voodoo curses or spells. She just points her cane at people and mutters under her breath every now and then. It'll be interesting to see what you make of her." And vice versa, she muttered under her breath.
"Well, if she's too old to cast spells or issue curses, I guess I'm safe."
"As safe as anybody can be these days," Jack commented, remembering Sadie's warning about the brown man. "These days, it's the folks you don't know you have to watch out for. There's a lot of crazies running around."
"Yeah," Dykes agreed. "And the bad part is, they all look the same. Most of the time, you can't tell the good from the bad until it's too late."
"Yeah, well, at least you're safe," Mary teased. "No self-respecting bad guy would ever wear that outfit you have on."
Dykes chuckled. "My experience has been that most bad guys prefer black. Me, I hate black. I like to be surrounded by colorful clothes; my style matches my personality."
"Which is what?"
"Colorful, cunning, and a brilliant all-around-wonderful guy, of course."
When Jack tried to top Dykes in enumerating his own wonderful attributes, Mary shook her head in amazement. What a bunch of bologna those two were. She'd been dreading putting her aunt's pilot up at the plantation, but it was obvious her fears had been for naught. Dykes' quirky personality was like a breath of fresh air, and he and Jack seemed to be hitting it off. Maybe his being here wouldn't be so bad after all.
26
Jack stood over the bed and tapped Mary's bare shoulder as she lay sleeping. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's nearly eight o'clock."
She stirred, reflexively swatting at his hand. Opening one eye slightly, she fumbled for the alarm clock on the bedside table. "It's only seven-fifty. Ugh. What are you doing up so early? I thought we were going to sleep in."
Bending down, he planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. "I did. I only woke up about twenty minutes ago. You can go back to sleep if you want to, or..."
Her other eye opened and she rolled onto her back. "Or what? What are you up to, Jack?"
His eyes sparkled. "Nothing much. The workmen finished bolstering the tunnel last night. I can't wait to check it out. Wanna come with me to see what's down there?"
She scrambled out of bed and draped a sheet around her naked body. "If I have to. You're not going down there alone. Give me a few minutes to get a shower, and I'll meet you downstairs."
He grinned. "I thought you'd want to be there for the grand unveiling."
She glanced over her shoulder as she padded into the bathroom. "I hate to spoil your fun, but I really hope there's nothing down there."
"You're probably right. But, I intend to check it out from top to bottom, just to make sure. Did I tell you I bought a really cool metal detector while you were gone? I can't wait to use it; it'll be great for locating gold, silver, large relics--even mineral deposits. Not to mention any jewelry that's buried."
She leaned against the doorframe. "You sound like a walking advertisement. What happened to the metal detector we already had? Was it broken?"
"That old thing? It was kid's stuff. I traded it on the new one."
"I see. Just how much did this new metal detector cost?"
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I got a really great buy on it. It was on sale with a four hundred dollar discount, plus I got an eighty dollar trade-in for our old one. Ended up costing me about a thousand bucks, but I figure that once we're done, we can let our guests putter around with it."
"What?" she gasped. "Have you lost your mind? A thousand bucks for a stupid metal detector!"
His eyebrows shot up. "Don't have a stroke, Mary. Some metal detectors cost over three thousand dollars; we got off cheap on this one. I've been saving my 'stash' money for months, and I had just enough to cover it. Besides, we can probably write it off as a business expense if we let our customers use it while they're staying with us. We can turn it into a fun attraction for guests."
Mary adjusted her sheet, which was slipping. "I can't believe you did that without talking to me, Jack, even if it did come out of your own money." She sighed, then shook her head. "Just do me one favor, okay? Next time you get
a wild hair across your butt to buy something like that, would you mind discussing it with me before you spend the money? Just as a courtesy?"
He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, babe. I've wanted one of these puppies for quite a while. The kind we got is the best one they make. Top of the line. I couldn't believe it when I walked into the hardware store and found it marked it down four hundred bucks. I thought it was a mistake, so I asked about it. The manager told me it was the last one he had and he's not bringing in any more to sell because they're too expensive; they don't turn over fast enough. No real profit in stocking them. That's why it was so cheap. I grabbed it up before anybody else could. It was too good a buy to miss."
Mary listened to the excitement in Jack's voice, and was reminded of the old saying about men and their toys. What was it about mechanical gadgets that turned otherwise intelligent men into excited little spendthrift boys? At least Jack paid for it out of his stash money and not their savings account. He could have done something a lot worse, and it was obvious he couldn't take the gadget back for a refund. Realizing it was futile to create a full-blown argument about his buying the metal detector, she schooled her frown into a small smile. Not big enough for Jack to think he was off the hook, but friendly enough for him to realize that she wasn't going to belabor the point any further. "You surprised me, that's all. I wasn't expecting you to spend a thousand bucks for a metal detector."
"I'm sorry, baby. I promise to talk to you before I buy anything else. Okay?"
"Okay." She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Have we heard from the hospital about Elizavon's condition this morning?"
"No. Nobody's called, so I guess no news is good news."
"Maybe. I'll give them a call when I get downstairs. Is anybody else up?"
"Sadie, Justine, and Mrs. Milliron. Haven't seen or heard from Dykes since we got back last night."
"What about Dykes? You aren't going to let him go down there, are you?"
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