Lanie went through every word she’d had with the foreman. Petting a kitty cat? Whatever does that…mean…? No sooner did the words come to her mind when an odd sensation of knowing seized her. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew what Mr. Paxton meant. “Never mind.” Her lips clamped shut. That odious man.
Jason watched the transformation as fire lit her bright blue eyes and realized it was her knowledge in the waking world coming to the fore. Her time was by far the more vulgar of the two. At least that was the opinion he’d formed based on what came out of Margaret’s television.
An instant later her dream surroundings changed and Jason found himself walking in the clock garden. Apparently Lanie had dreamt enough of Mr. Paxton.
“Jason?”
He turned to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear…”
Laughing, Lanie said, “Your mind is a hundred miles away, and I’m beginning to suspect you’re having second thoughts about being my partner.”
Before he could answer, Bertha’s braying laughter coming from the bricked path behind them was followed by Richard’s soft Southern drawl, “Good afternoon, Lanie, Jason.”
Jason smiled and nodded with far more politeness than he felt. “Richard. Good afternoon, Bertha, and where is my lovely wife?”
“Seeing to our lemonade.” Bertha chortled happily. “You look lovely today, Lanie.” She said the name like it humored her. “That really is charming fabric. You’d never think it at all plain.” Her eyes then devoured Jason from head to toe. “And Jason, of course you always look so splendidly turned out.”
Though the woman’s words to Lanie bordered on insulting, Jason forced the smile to acknowledge her compliment to him. He had to play their game. “That’s kind of you to say, Bertha.”
There was no missing Bertha’s odd comment suggested the opposite. Smoothing her blue-and-white striped summer dress, Lanie suddenly felt self-conscious next to the elaborate ensemble the other woman wore. Feeling a need to explain her inadequate wardrobe, Lanie said, “Thank you. My travel necessitated packing light.”
His eyes upon Lanie the entire time, Richard told his sister, “Lanie doesn’t need fancier cloth, sister. That would be gilding the lily.”
“Richard and Bertha, be dears and help me set a place for this tray,” Cathy told them loudly despite the fact she only carried a plate of cookies. Coming up the path, Addy held the much-heavier tray of beverages.
Having seen Cathy from the corner of his eye, Jason knew she’d heard Richard’s compliment, for her cheeks were very pink and her doe eyes spit fire before she composed herself. Taking the heavy tray from Addy’s hands and setting it upon the gazebo railing, he shook his head. “That’s too heavy for you, dear.” He wanted to throttle Cathy for giving her the heavier burden.
The elder woman gave him an affectionate smile, her appreciation twinkling in her hazel eyes.
Richard reached for the pitcher. “May I pour you a glass of lemonade, Lanie?”
Cathy informed Richard sweetly, “I’ve only brought glasses for three because I wasn’t aware Lanie and Jason were in the garden.” Then remembering her manners, she added quickly, “But do take my glass and I shall fetch another.” Obviously disappointed to hear no objection, she made to return to the house. Suddenly, Cathy turned to Jason. “Are your business affairs settled for the day, Jason? Is there anything I can get for the two of you when I bring the extra glasses?”
Jason chuckled. What a transparent bitch she was. He played along, desiring to be alone with Lanie anyway. “Actually, I was just about to suggest to Lanie that we adjourn to the study and continue our discussion at my desk where pen and ink are handy.” He caught Richard’s frown.
“Ah, we won’t be needing the extra glasses then. Richard, do pour for us, if you would.” Cathy covered his hand with both of hers and directed which glass he filled first. She smiled at her husband. “Please, don’t let us keep you from your work, dear.”
Jason gave Lanie his arm. “Shall we see about those ledgers?”
“Good day,” Lanie told them. Jason just nodded.
“See you at dinner,” Richard said affably.
Bertha’s donkey laugh could be heard all the way at the front door, followed a moment later by a braying. “Oh, you two are so funny!”
The comment had him wondering what had passed between his wife and her lover that had the man’s sister so amused.
In the study Jason went to his desk, but Lanie stayed at the door with her hand on the knob. “I think we should see to our business another day so you’ll be able to spend time with your guests Jason. I feel awful that I’ve disrupted your holiday like I have, and I do believe it is beginning to wear on your wife. I’ll take a room at the O’Hara Inn until we finish going over father’s inventory, that is, if I may impose upon you once more for a ride to town.”
“Please don’t leave.”
“Really, I think it best. I should be going…” She turned the knob. Jason was suddenly on his feet and at her side. His hand pressed the door closed. “May I be frank?”
The way he looked at her made Lanie feel as though a thousand butterflies had been let loose in her ribcage. “Of course.”
“Cathy would rather not have her entourage suffer my presence. My wife and I are at an impasse, you see. She and Richard Mason are lovers.” He left the comment dangle. The statement was damning enough.
Not knowing what to say, Lanie stared at him.
Jason continued, “They have no idea that I know. But the fact remains, I do. To be honest, Lanie, your presence here is the only thing keeping me from doing something I know I’d regret. I would ask that you stay for the duration of Richard and Bertha’s visit.” He didn’t attempt to explain he was to be murdered soon. He took her hand from the doorknob and held it between his larger hands. “Will you stay? Please?”
“Your wife’s patience for my presence appears thin after only four days, Jason, I’m not sure she’d…”
He cut in, “The only reason Cathy seems strained is Richard dotes on you when you’re around. For that, I can’t fault the man. I find I’m drawn to your beauty myself. It eclipses that of every other woman who stands beside you, including Cathy, who’s considered handsome by any standard.”
Blushing, she lowered her eyes.
Roses. Pink tea roses came to mind. She’d worn that same blush just several hours ago in her time when she’d stood naked and dew-kissed before him. Recalling how he had watched it fan out over her breasts he fought the desire gripping him, but the battle was lost before it began. Jason lifted her chin with his finger, and his whiskey gaze met fathomless blue. “Will you stay?”
The butterflies Lanie experienced a moment ago now felt like pigeons. Unable to find her voice, she nodded.
His mouth turned up in a handsome smile. “Thank you. Now I’d like to show you something.” With that, he took her by the hand and went to his desk. To her surprise he opened the larger drawer and turned a decorative scrollwork sideways. The action was followed by a click from below and a second drawer dropped into the first. Inside was a revolver. “It’s loaded.”
Lanie looked at him with wide eyes. Why was he showing her a gun?
“Should you have need of it while you’re here, you know where it is.”
“Why would I need this?”
“The others have shown their character. If they were to fall further it would be a very short distance.” Jason didn’t know how they’d murdered him or what they’d done to poor Addy, but the thought they might hurt Lanie had spurred him to show her his father’s revolver.
“You can’t be serious. You believe they’d actually do me harm or you?”
Yes, they most certainly would. He shook his head to allay her fears. “I feel better knowing you know it’s here in the desk.” Lifting the hidden drawer, Jason tucked it back into its hiding place. After it set itself with a soft click he said, “Now you try to open it.”
Her hands were shaking, but she managed it
with little effort then, closing it the same way he had, met his eyes with a hesitant smile.
Seeing how she trembled, he went to the servant’s cord and set a small bell tinkling down the hall. A moment later Addy appeared at the door. “Yes, Doctor, you rang?
“Would you mind bringing two raspberry cordials for us, Addy?” Doctors often received payment in the form of spirits and because of this Jason had a well-stocked cellar. Addy knew the raspberry was the strongest of the fruit cordials. She raised her brow at him in question. He nodded.
A few minutes later when she set the tray down, he thanked her and asked, “Addy, do you still have a pocket full of licorice?”
The housekeeper broke into a huge smile upon hearing her little Jacy’s words in the deep timbre of his voice. Reaching into her pocket, Addy pulled out two wrapped in waxed paper and handed them to him. His fingers closed around her hand, and he kissed her knuckles. “Thank you.” She lightly patted his cheek before leaving.
Sharing his treat with Lanie, he explained, “She’s a dear.” Jason related how Addy helped raise him after his mother died. For the next hour they left all forms of business behind and talked about their parents and their childhoods. Even if this was her dream, the details were so clear, and the knowledge so precise, he could only believe it to be real. For the first time Jason really believed she lived in two times at once, and it made him wonder if it were possible to change the outcome his wife and her lover had planned.
Chapter 17
Frustrated by a skeletal armchair with its rotted horsehair cushions and sharp uncoiled springs jutting out in every conceivable direction, Lexie asked, “How did Ben’s brother figure this cellar would be ready to go on Monday?”
Lanie answered from somewhere on the other side of the stack, “We’re almost done. Monday will be tight time-wise, but if I can get most of it out they can rake the floor before the cement comes. Remember, Ben said to leave the heaviest stuff for them.” Loaded up with two broken apple crates, a base to a kerosene lamp and the other leg of the footstool she found in the past hour, she set them on the top stair and said on her way down, “Why do you suppose it’s stacked with garbage like this?”
“I’m wondering that myself. This is nuts!” Lexie pulled hard on the last word, and the spring that was entwined around the handle of an old milk can tore from its mooring and freed the chair. “Take that, you sorry son of a gun!”
Gun. Lanie started. The word sparking a memory, she turned to her friend in the process of dragging the heavy, rusted milk can toward the stairs. “Lex?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to tell you something before Pete comes back.” She looked up the stairway to be sure they were alone. Pete was busy hauling the junk from the stairs and sorting it into whatever pile category was best. So far, most of it was slated for the scrap man’s pile. “I’ve been dreaming of Jason Bowen and the house for the past two nights.”
Lexie sniffed. “Yeah? That’s not unusual for you. It’s only been what…twenty years?” She sneezed loudly from behind the pile, once, twice...
Lanie waited. She never heard her friend sneeze less than three times in a row. Predictably the third followed. “Bless you!”
The traditional sneeze wish was met with a gurgling honk somewhere behind a broken window shutter speared by an old corn broom. “Ugh. Thanks. I’m gonna give myself whiplash sneezing like that.”
Lanie laughed.
“So you’ve been dreaming like always.” By Lexie’s calculation, Lanie had been dreaming this stuff for twenty years. “And?”
“Yes, well in this one dream he opened a desk drawer and showed me a gun.”
“That’s odd. You haven’t dreamed of guns before have you? For what purpose?”
“No I haven’t, and I don’t really know why. He also told me that his wife was cheating on him with Richard Mason.”
Lexie shook her head. Armed with details from the Historical Society, Lanie’s imaginative dreams had taken a definite direction. While she did think her friend’s peculiar dreaming bordered on bizarre, she only ever believed they were just dreams, a subconscious relating of facts and fancy gleaned from life. Still, Lanie believed her dreams were portents of something greater, and since they were friends these dreams deserved her respect as did Lanie’s desire to talk about them. Trying not to sound like she was indulging a fantasy, she said, “Well, we guessed that might be the case, didn’t we?”
“The desk has this trick drawer that a hidden drawer opens into. That same desk is upstairs and it does have a secret drawer. I opened it like he showed me.”
Lexie froze. These dreams got more and more peculiar as time went on. “Did you find the gun?”
“No.”
Removing the broom and shutter, she finally accessed the milk can and dragged the heavy thing across the hard-packed dirt floor. “Holy shit!”
“What? Lex, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Do I need to get my kit? Lexie answer me!”
“I found your gun, and the person it might have been used on.”
* * * *
Jason stood at the cupola window and looked down at the clock garden below. Ben had done a remarkable job restoring it. The opening passion flowers below declared it to be noon.
“Jacy?”
He whirled around. A translucent woman stood in the doorway. She looked as he remembered her from his childhood. He thought her old then, but considering her now she couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, the year his mother died. “Addy?”
The small tower room started to brighten. “I don’t have much time, my dear boy. I took your father’s revolver to stop them, but they murdered me. I overheard them planning on getting rid of you. Oh, I wasn’t dead at first, they buried me alive.”
His gut twisted at the horrible thought. “How, Addy? When?”
Shimmering light filled the space. “I have to go now,” she told him.
“No, Addy, wait! Tell me how…tell me when!”
She ruffled his dark brown hair, something she hadn’t done since he was a child. “I love you, boy.” She was starting to fade.
He held onto her hand and cried, “Addy, no!”
“I have to follow the light, Jacy. But now listen close.” The light started to shimmer. “I must say this quickly. Find John Singer before they kill him. He knows what they’re about. Don’t worry, Jacy, I’m going to a lovely place. I can see it in my mind already. My dear Bernie is waiting there. I’ll tell your mother and father and baby sister you send your love.” Her words faded with her form.
For the first time since his father passed away, Jason sat down with renewed grief and cried.
A while later there was a commotion outside. He went to the window and saw several automobiles with flashing red and blue lights. In an instant, he projected himself downstairs.
Chapter 18
Three hours later the coroner and the forensics experts determined there had been no recent foul play. From what Lanie had told them about the days spent clearing the tangled trash down here, it was clear that a century earlier the killer wanted the body to remain undiscovered. As far as they could discern at this point by fragments of shoes and clothing and obvious deterioration of bone, the skeletal remains of a woman in her early sixties had been buried under the mountain of debris for at least a hundred years.
A cursory evaluation determined she’d been struck over the head from behind. The wound showed the direction of the blow and the instrument used was the iron fireplace poker. Its pronged end fit the two holes in her skull perfectly and had been discovered along with her body in the shallow grave. Both had been rolled tightly in an Oriental rug. She also held a Civil War revolver clutched tightly in her hand. Lanie knew at a glance that it was the same gun the dream Jason had shown her.
Zipping up the body bag, the coroner told Detective Reynolds, “Well that’s it. We’re done here.”
Lanie signed her official statement while Lexie speculated with Detective Anderson. “We’ve
been researching the house and its occupants since Lanie moved in. I don’t know how you’d verify it without dental records, but I recently found a newspaper article from 1886 stating the housekeeper went missing. That might be Addy Fairfax, the Bowen housekeeper.” She tipped her head toward the body in the bag.
Though it didn’t really matter after all this time, but it would be nice to know, the detective said, “Can you fax over what you have?”
Lexie nodded. “Sure. Is tomorrow okay?” This would be the fifth cooperative effort between the police and the historical society. Occasionally a woodchuck digging a burrow would disturb an old grave in a pioneer cemetery, or an Indian burial mound would turn up at the site of a new shopping mall. Lexie loved CSI.
“Yeah, she’s not going anywhere.” He handed Lexie a small Ziploc bag. “Here, maybe you can find out about this. Technically it belongs to Doctor O’Keefe now, but maybe you’ll find it useful.”
Lexie looked at the tarnished silver broach through the clear plastic. There appeared to be an inscription on the back.
* * * *
Lanie eased her exhausted muscles into a very hot, lavender-scented bubble bath, once again mentally saluting the inventor of the deep, claw-foot bathtub. What a day. Never in a thousand years would she have suspected a body buried in the cellar. No wonder the house had spooky legends. Speaking of. Unaware of his invisible presence on the edge of the tub, she called his name, “Jason?” She hadn’t seen or heard a word out of Jason since they’d shared a kiss two nights before.
She frowned when he didn’t answer, and there was a part of her that worried he was gone for good.
An hour later, the scented heat had worked its magic on her body while a dose of antihistamine quieted her restless mind and itchy, dust-saturated throat and nose. Completely relaxed, she tumbled into bed and within minutes was fast asleep.
Jason sat beside her and brushed the ebony wisps behind her ear. She looked like an angel when she slept. Angel. His throat got tight thinking of Addy. If ever an angel walked the earth, it was the woman who’d stayed beside them in the worst of times. Killed by a blow to the back of the head. Which monster had done that? he wondered. For some reason he could easily place the poker in Cathy’s hand. His murdering wife never liked Addy and often hinted at replacing her in the four short months they were married. His stomach clenched. They’d buried his dear Addy alive.
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