She returned to her room, where she changed into jeans and a t-shirt. She left the house to find Snuffles and to see what kind of mischief he had gotten himself into. It was dusk and would be dark soon, which made searching for a little dog in a strange environment a bit tricky.
Checking around both sides and the back of the manor, Patricia called Snuffles in a muted voice meant for only the dog to hear. In her search, she discovered an old horse carriage made into a garage. Over-shadowing the garage was a large magnolia tree. As she walked further around back, she discovered Hannah’s rose garden fragrant with the smell of roses in bloom. Mentally, Patricia vowed to explore the rose garden another time.
When no little dog was to be found in the back of the manor, the young girl returned to the front lawn walking slowly towards the river calling his name. Thinking she hear him bark, she called out again. Out from some shrubs near the river jumped Snuffles all wet and muddy. Scooping him up bodily, the young girl scolded the happy, wiggly dog having a difficult time holding onto him as she walked back up the lawn to the manor and her room. She fully intended to give this muddy dog a bath, and the way things were going she might need another bath herself.
As she gave her little dog the scrubbing of his life, Patricia wondered if it was only her imagination or was there a strange unsettled mood at Grayson Manor? She sensed that something was wrong. It seemed odd that, even though Flannel Grayson was deathly ill, his niece, nephew and Hannah seemed unconcerned. Then she recalled her own incident with the hair dryer positioned to fall into the water she was standing in. Were her uncle’s illness, and the thing with the hair dryer, and the break-in related? She intended to find out.
Chapter Seven
It was two days later that Rand received another police report from the police chief in Greenfield. Apparently, Justin was suspected of rigging a hair dryer to conveniently fall into the bath water in Patricia Grayson’s bathroom, which would have killed her instantly. This was serious, but so were the drug charges that would be brought against him when they caught him in the act of dealing drugs. At that moment, Justin Grayson was their hottest lead to capturing the leader of the powerful drug ring that had Louisville’s underworld in a deadly grip. Justin wasn’t going anywhere. His home and family ties were right here in Louisville where he was probably making a lot of money dealing drugs. Rand was getting close. He had a gut felling, and as his friend, Officer Rob McNally, would say, “Never ignore your gut feeling. It will keep you safe.”
Rand’s goal was to catch the drug dealers red-handed and put them all in prison for as long as the law will allow. As for Justin, he was one of their prime suspects. He would have to let the authorities in Greenfield deal with the case involving the incident with the hair dryer because that happened in Indiana, which was out of his jurisdiction. He had met with many challenges since he had taken this job on the police force, Challenges that he would not have encountered in his other life.
It began a few years ago when he ran into an old friend Rob McNally from his old high school days. Rob was a policeman on the Louisville police department, and a darn good one. Rand had always admired McNally for his honesty and straight forwardness. His old friend began talking about the work he was involved in and described how he was working with a special force designed to catch and arrest criminals involved in trafficking drugs to the youth of the city, and when Rob saw his old friend was interested, he urged Rand to join the force. “You are a good man Rand. You would be good at this.”
Rand considered this new idea for some time and was drawn to the chance to be involved in a job that involved danger and excitement on a different level than he had ever experienced before. Also, the thought of the hands on effort to put some really bad criminals away from society where children were the victims appealed to him.
At that time in his life, Rand felt that he was missing out somehow. After law school, he had practiced a few years in his father’s law firm of Cameron & Cameron, but after a few years, although he liked his work, he felt he was hemmed in. He liked being active.
Rand worked out to stay fit, so he was in good shape for this new job. He rode horses, played golf and enjoyed an active life outside of his daily workouts. He didn’t date much. He had a bad experience early on in college that caused him to lose interest. He had fallen hard and had intended to ask the girl to marry him, but he lost out to another guy named Arnold something. Later, she returned and cried, confessing that she had made a mistake, and the other man, Arnold, had meant nothing to her. Justin believed her, just as he believed that what they had shared had also meant nothing to her. Maybe that was the reason he had never made a commitment to anyone. He was keeping his distance.
Young Cameron surprised himself and his father by putting his law practice on hold, and took the job as a detective with the undercover police. He embraced the tough training program required to join the force with gusto. After his training, he welcomed the danger and excitement that came with the job of serving his community helping to rid the city of corruption that comes from the sale of drugs.
Chapter Eight
Rand sat throwing pebbles into the Ohio River and watched as they made tiny ripples before sinking into the water. The River was wide, and the young man sat moodily contemplating whether or not he would be able to swim to the other side if it ever became necessary. He was a good swimmer, but the water looked swift, with a strong undercurrent that could cause some real problems.
He leaned back against a log, his billed cap pulled low over his searching brown eyes scrutinizing both shore lines up and down the river for any unusual activity. The late evening sun cast shadows from his cap highlighting a square jaw set in a determined line. He wore incredibly tattered jeans with a chambray shirt with the sleeves torn off. His lean muscular body, though at rest, had a lithe cat like quality as he sat patiently waiting for his prey. In one hand he held a rod and reel with the line trailing off into the water. What the observer could not know was, that the hook on the end of his line was not baited. He didn’t need fish bait to catch what he was fishing for.
The officer had been watching this area for expected criminal activity for a long time. There was word that this was a drop-off for some serious narcotics, and Rand intended to learn where and how the transaction was made. Going partly on instinct (gut feeling) and partly just an educated guess, he felt that this evening his patience would be rewarded.
The sun had disappeared over the horizon when he spotted an old fishing boat trolling slowly down the river. There were three men on board, and there was no fishing going on. The boat came slowly on down the river and pulled in close to the bank a short distance from where Rand watched from behind the log.
After a few minutes, the observer saw a shadowy figure in the dusk dark, separate itself from the fishing boat and disappear into the shrubs up the river from Grayson Manor. The figure moved inland to a large shelf of land protruding out of the otherwise sloping hill. The man disappeared into the dusky shadows, and while Rand observed from his own secured place in the shrubs, the world along the Ohio River went dark. Rand moved in closer so as to see where the man from the boat would reappear. In a few moments, a faint light flashed above Rand on the hill, as the man moved toward him. Rand faded into the shrubs taking note as he did the direction from which he saw the flashing light. As the man moved past him, the officer could have reached out and touched him.
The man returned to the boat, revved up the motor, and began trolling back up the river. Rand was quick to search out the spot where he had seen him disappear into the hill. Noting that he could no longer hear the motorboat, Rand flashed his own light around the area and felt a thrill of excitement as his light glinted off metal. Further investigation revealed more metal showing thru the dirt and debris. It seemed that years ago, someone had installed a metal door, cellar door style, into the hillside just below Grayson Manor. Over time, sliding earth and gravel moved around with the rain and with the help of gravity, had covered the
door. Recent use of the door had shifted the earth and gravel to expose the metal door beneath. You would have had to know that door was there to have found it when it was covered. Justin!
The young officer grinned to himself triumphantly as he ran his hand along the metal until he came to a place at the bottom where the edge was bent out making a sizable hole at the bottom of the door. With some effort, the officer raised the heavy door and was not surprised to see a tunnel leading into the hillside. Ducking his head to accommodate the low ceiling of the tunnel, Rand followed the tunnel a short distance where it opened out into a large room. Flashing his light around, he could see indications that the cave was man made constructed of posts and beams intended to keep the hill from caving in and fill the room. The ancient timbers were leaning crazily downhill, and there were rotting timbers strewn about the floor.
Amazed at his discovery, Rand wondered what the purpose was for this ancient cave. It was more than likely connected to Grayson Manor. In the days of slavery, this cave may have provided shelter for people on the Underground Railroad. Then there were the prohibition days when liquor could have been smuggled into the city using the cave. Rand did not know it’s original use, but today the cave was being used to move drugs around.
Remembering his purpose for being there, Rand began searching for signs that the cave was being used. He didn’t have to look far. Deeper in the room on an old timber propped up on two other timbers was a sizable package. He could only guess what the contents were. He could only know for sure when they made the pick-up. An effort was being made by his department to trap these criminals. Police were already shadowing the men in the fishing boat, but who would pick up this package was still a mystery.
Exploring the rest of the room, the young man committed the layout to memory for future reference. In the back of the cave was an old stairwell that led to a doorway at the top that led further into the hillside. He had been right about the connection to Grayson Manor. The steps were gone, but there was enough timber for Rand, with some effort, to climb to the doorway above where he was not surprised to see the tunnel angled in the direction of the manor. The old tunnel looked treacherous and smelled of mold. He would be willing to bet, that if he followed the tunnel to it’s genesis, he would be standing in the basement of the house on the hill. However, there was no evidence that the tunnel had any recent use.
Turning back to what had been the stairway, Rand was gingerly working his way down what was little was left of the steps when he was surprised to hear something moving around in the cave. Quickly he stepped to the floor, switched off the light, and then waited to see what would develop. He felt something brush against his leg, and then he heard a muffled bark. Flipping on the light, he was relieved to see a little bright-eyed dachshund covered with mud looking up at him. Rand picked up the small dog, tucked him under his arm, and made his way to the metal door where he put the small dog on the ground outside of the cave, then shooed him towards the manor. “Go home dog.” he said in a muted voice.
In the distance, near the manor, Rand heard a woman’s voice calling for Snuffles, which was probably the name of the little guy standing in front of him. The small dog turned toward him and barked his funny little bark. Holding his breath, he again shooed the dog towards the manor. Snuffles had already heard the girl calling him and was gone like a flash through the shrubs onto the lawn. The officer listened as the young girl scolded the dachshund as she walked back up the hill carrying the muddy dog. Moving to the edge of the foliage, Rand watched as the girl and the dog disappeared into the front door of the manor.
Rand wondered who she was. He was also curious about her sudden appearance at Grayson Manor at the same time that the criminal activity in the cave was going down. The net was being cast, and who knew who would be caught in it.
Rand and his partner, McNally, took turns watching the cave over the next few days, but nothing happened. He hoped they had not somehow tipped their hand. Rand, on a hunch, under the cover of darkness, entered the cave and found that the package was gone. Feeling frustrated and duped, he and his unit intensified their efforts to catch the criminals.
Chapter Nine
Snuffles lay sleeping after his adventure and bath. Patricia smiling down at her cute dog, exchanged the muddy jeans for slacks, and left the room, closing the door on the way out. She went in search of the kitchen. She was still hungry, and her dog needed something more than the dried food she had brought for him.
There was no one around when she opened the swinging door into the kitchen. The room was dark except for a light over the range. In the refrigerator she found leftover roast chicken and chocolate cake. Using paper towels to avoid using dishes that might require an explanation, she made two plates. Patricia took the food to her room where she shared the food with Snuffles who was now awake.
While she ate, the girl went over in her mind everything that had happened since she had received the letter from Flannel Grayson. There was definitely something wrong here, and she intended to find out what it was. If she wanted to learn of her uncle’s true condition, she would have to do it herself. She would just go upstairs and check on her uncle right now. The trick would be to avoid being seen. Maybe she was Flannel Grayson’s only heir, but until her rights were validated, she had no authority in this house, so she would have to be careful.
It was eleven o’clock when Patricia left her room and climbed the stairs to the third floor. The only light was the light in front of her uncle’s room. All was quiet except for the creaking floor as she approached her uncle’s door. Trying the handle, the door opened without a sound, and the girl slipped inside leaving the door slightly ajar.
A small lamp cast an eerie glow over a large room not unlike the one she was staying in. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, bulky objects came into focus. There were massive chests, a chair and a king sized canopy bed where her uncle lay as still as death. Reassuring herself that there was no one else in the room other than her uncle and herself, She tiptoed cautiously to the bed where he lay, where she looked into the quiet gentle face of her Uncle Flannel Grayson. As he lay still as if asleep, she automatically reached out and took his hand in hers. He did not awaken making no sign that she was there.
“Uncle Flannel.” the girl said hopefully. “Uncle Flannel, are you awake? It’s me, Patricia, your niece. Remember me? I am here.” She added reassuringly. When he failed to respond, Patricia continued to talk quietly to him remembering hearing somewhere that someone in a coma could sometimes hear what was going on around him.
“Uncle Flannel, I got your letter. It’s me, your brother David’s daughter, Patricia. I am here. Can you open your eyes for me? You must wake up. How are we going to get to know each other if you don’t wake up?” she coaxed.
To her amazement, his eyes fluttered open, and he lay looking at her. She thought he tried to speak’ but in a moment his eyes closed again. He looked ghostly white in the semidarkness, and when she checked his pulse, it was very slow. She continued to talk to him in a low calm voice telling him about getting his letter, and about her trip to Grayson Manor. Patricia could not coax her uncle to open his eyes again.
Feeling defeated, she was just turning to leave, when she heard a sound in the hallway. Stepping to the end of a huge chest near the bed, Patricia pressed herself against the wall and waited. She held her breath as someone stepped into the room and approached the bed where her uncle lay. The young girl heard a woman’s voice. “Well, that should hold you for awhile.
The woman left the room closing the door behind her. Patricia suspected that what the woman had given her uncle was an injection, because Flannel was not awake to swallow a pill. She fervently hoped he had been given something to help him to get well, but something about the tone in the woman’s voice told Patricia that was not the case.
The young girl suddenly remembered that the door was closed when she first entered her uncle’s room. She wondered if the woman who had just visited Flannel Grayson not
iced that the door was slightly open when she came in. She left the room quietly, closing the door behind her, checking first to make sure there was no one in the hallway. She realized that her uncle might be in a lot of trouble, and it was up to her to help him.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Patricia, convinced t hat the letter from her Uncle Flannel Grayson had been a cry for help, decided to do something to help him. First she would grab some breakfast. She found Elizabeth in the dining room.
“Elizabeth, Uncle Flannel is really sick, and I am going to stay here today and look after him. Now that we have met, we will have plenty of time to hang out and get acquainted.” “Sure Patricia. Do you think that he will be all right?” she asked. “I hope so Elizabeth.” “Me too.” Elizabeth said sincerely. “I have to go if I am going to get my shopping done before I have to go back to school.” “I understand. Have fun.” Patricia grinned.
Elizabeth left the room leaving behind a fruity scent and the promise of a lifelong friendship. After breakfast, Patricia used her cell phone to call the office of Grant Cameron, Flannel Grayson’s lawyer. She got his secretary, who said that Patricia was lucky because Mr. Cameron was in to take her call.
The Curse Of Ivy Page 4