I clung to the railing and tried to keep my eyes focused on the bald spot on the back of Ben's head. At long last, our feet were firmly set on the concrete floor.
"This way," Ben said, holding open a door. I walked into a large chamber, dominated by several shiny steel embalming tables.
"Do you want to see them both?" Ben asked.
I shook my head. "Just Emily, please."
Ben pulled a drawer out of the wall, and as it rolled out, I saw the trunk that had driven Ramona Houdeyshell into therapy.
"I was hoping you'd still have the trunk," I said.
"We're keeping it all together for evidence," Ben said.
"Can I look?"
"Help yourself."
I moved closer. The padlock was still locked in the hasp, but that didn't matter since the hinges had broken when the trunk lid shattered.
I looked inside and felt a wave of nausea sweep over me at the sight of the yellowed bones mingled with satin and lace.
What I wanted to examine, though, was not Emily Rakestraw's mortal remains, but the inside of the trunk itself.
I needed to see if the story I'd heard second- or third-hand about Emily trying to scratch her way out of the trunk was true. Unfortunately, it looked as if that was exactly what had happened. The satin lining had been torn away, and there were hundreds of scratches on the wood facing of the interior. Emily had been alive when she'd been locked in the trunk. What must her last hours have been like? It was too horrible to contemplate.
Ben leaned into my back and stared over my shoulder into the trunk. "Nasty way to die," he said. "Drink?" He pressed a flute of champagne into my hand.
He was too close, and I stiffened. "I don't think so," I said, looking for a place to put the glass down. "Could you please back up?"
He didn't move, except perhaps to press harder against me.
"I said.. .back up."
He touched the side of my neck with his free hand. "You share my interest in the macabre, I see," he murmured close to my ear.
"I do not. Get away." I tried to push myself away from the drawer, but he had me pinned against it. "Let me go, or I'll scream."
"Nobody's going to hear you. Maybe you'd like to see Rodney's remains."
"I found him, remember?"
"I'll bet you didn't notice his feet, though."
"What about his feet?"
"He didn't have any. Cut clean away. Right above the ankles."
"Get the hell away from me." I pushed with all my might, and he fell back so suddenly that I almost toppled over.
I spun, prepared to run, and was shocked to see, not Ben, but Bruce.
"Come on," Bruce said, extending a hand. "Let's get out of here. Don't trip over the garbage."
He was referring to Ben, who lay on the floor in a fetal position.
"Is he...? You didn't...?"
"All I did was give him a chop in the kidney. Something I learned to do in Nam. He'll be almost good as new in a few minutes."
I took his hand and followed him meekly out of the mortuary chamber.
Back upstairs, we closed the door behind us and tried to look as if we'd never been away.
"Obviously, you're not local or you'd know better than to go anywhere alone with Ben," Bruce said with a grin. "He's Lickin Creek's best-known lecher."
I looked across the room, to where Goldie Koon stood, looking tall, thin, blond, and rich. She was everything I'd ever wanted to be, but now I knew her life was not what it appeared to be. I might be short, dark, and dumpy but at least I wasn't involved with an adulterer. Or anybody else, the little voice in my head whispered. That's good, I told the voice. I can be my own woman. Do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want. Another minute of thinking like that and I'd have had myself believing it.
The front door burst open, and in came the brass band from Community Concert. Everyone began to applaud, welcoming them to the party. Goldie Koon looked around for her husband, and not seeing him, stepped forward and greeted the large group. They were led into the other room for drinks.
"They're going to perform with the Downtown Businessmen's Association Band in a few minutes," Bruce told me. "It's an annual tradition. If you want to leave, we'd better do it now"
"Aren't you going to join them?" I asked.
"My musical days are far behind me. I'll get your coat."
In his SUV, Bruce turned the radio on to a country-western station. "I really like this a lot better than what we heard tonight," he said.
"Me, too."
"I had a feeling you didn't enjoy it."
"What gave you the clue? Was it when I put the wet paper towel on my forehead? Or when I made ear plugs out of Kleenex?"
He smiled and pulled out of the parking lot. It was eleven o'clock, and the local news came on the radio. Bruce reached forward to switch it off, but I put my hand on his arm. "Let's hear what's happening," I said.
After a brief rave review of the concert, the reporter announced that a woman who had wandered away from a local nursing home had been found. No further details were provided.
As the radio began to play a Garth Brooks number, I thought about what had happened down in the mortuary. Not only had I discovered that Emily really had been alive, but the news about Rodney's missing feet had caught me completely by surprise. What did it mean?
I suddenly realized that Bruce was talking to me. "What did you say?" I asked.
"I still feel terrible about what happened to you at my hunting preserve. I'd like to make it up to you."
"You took me to a concert and a nice party," I said. "And rescued me from a fate worse than death at the hands of a randy mortician. I think that's enough."
"I'm going out of town on a business trip. Leaving tomorrow. Why don't you come with me?"
I thought about it for a second or two. "The prospect of looking at deer on an Amish farm somewhere in Ohio is not my idea of fun. Thanks for the offer."
"Not Ohio, Tori. Cancun. Mexico. Sun, surf, Mayan ruins, scuba diving."
"Oh my" Cancun sounded great, but I could not picture myself there with anyone but Garnet.
"I can't," I said regretfully.
"I'd like to get you away from here for a while."
"I've got Greta's wedding coming up."
"You'll call me in the morning if you change your mind?"
At first, I was relieved when he didn't try to kiss me good-night at the door. However, when I got inside, I thought, maybe if he had I might have agreed to go to Cancun with him.
"Stop it," I scolded myself.
"Stop what?" Ethelind asked. She must have been lurking in the front parlor, just waiting for me to come home so she could interrogate me about the evening. And interrogate me, she did. "How was the concert? Did you have a good time? He's nice, isn't he? Are you going out with him again? My mother always said it's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man."
"Did you hear anything about Maribell Morgan's whereabouts?" I broke in during a lull. "The radio said something about a woman who'd wandered away from a nursing home being found."
"Of course I did. Everyone's talking about it. She really must be senile. Why else would she try to go home?"
"Home? You mean she was found at Morgan Manor?"
"Indeed she was. In the attic, yet, with a broken hip. You know what they say about old people and broken hips, don't you."
"Not really," I said.
"They don't break their hips by falling down, the hip breaks by itself and that's what makes them fall."
My head was spinning. What had made Maribell Morgan risk her health by running away? As far as I could tell, there could be only one reason for her to be in the attic. She was looking for something there. Had she found it? Whether or not she had, I was sure it had something to do with the murders of the long-dead couple. I needed to discover what it was she was seeking.
Twenty-Two
All through the night, I thumped my pillow and wrestled with my sheet while drawing
comparisons between Bruce and Garnet. Bruce was rich; Garnet was not. Bruce was well established in business; Garnet was well respected but unsure of the direction he wanted to take. Bruce had asked me to go to an exotic place with him; Garnet went to an exotic place without me. Bruce was a gentleman; Garnet was rather rough around the edges. And most important Bruce was here, while Garnet was not.
As the first gray light of morning brightened the sky outside my window my heart and mind came to an agreement, and I fell into a deep sleep only to be awakened a few minutes later by my alarm clock. Without hesitation, I turned off the clock, rubbed Fred's tummy for good luck, and placed a call to Bruce.
He sounded a bit sleepy but also pleased to hear from me. "Are you calling to say you'll go to Cancun with me?" he said, and I could envision his tanned skin crinkling pleasantly around his bright blue eyes.
I took a deep breath and said, "I really called to say thank you for a nice evening last night."
"Except for the episode with Ben in the mortuary," he reminded me.
I couldn't help laughing a little. "And I also wanted to thank you for saving me from a fate worse than death."
"You did that last night. Now, why don't you tell me why you really called?"
After another deep breath, I said, "Bruce, I know you only asked me to go on a vacation with you, and that's not exactly a commitment, but I'm not a person who takes things like that lightly. I really like you, and I enjoy being with you. But I am still in love with Garnet Gochenauer, and that's why I can't see you again."
There was silence on the other end of the line, then Bruce said, "I thought he was out of the picture."
"Physically, yes. Emotionally no."
"I see."
"I'm sorry, Bruce."
"No problem, Tori. I appreciate hearing this from you. In my younger days honesty was a trait I admired and strived for. It's something that has kind of slipped by the boards in the past few years. I thank you for reminding me of it."
I didn't know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut.
He added. "I don't take things lightly, either, Tori. Not when they have to do with people and relationships. I had hoped we might... well, never mind... Tori, please be careful. I'm worried about you."
"No need to worry about me," I told him. "I survived for a decade in New York City, and some of it was in the pre-Mayor Giuliani days." I wondered why he was worried, but he didn't elaborate.
I felt better after my phone call, even though I still wasn't one hundred percent sure I'd made the right decision.
Ignoring Ethelind's declarations that I was going to wither up and blow away if I didn't eat breakfast, I skipped the kippers on cold toast and drove to the Sigafoos Home for the Aged where Maribell Morgan was recovering from her mysterious nighttime visit to her old home.
After I parked in the nearly empty lot, I walked under a long awning to the front door and entered an unbearably hot reception hall. The scent of floral air freshener did not quite cover the odor of urine, rubbing alcohol, and cafeteria food that pervaded the air. A young woman sat behind a glass window with a little hole in it, as if she were a bank teller, and told me I'd find Maribell Morgan in the nursing section. She directed me to an elevator hidden behind a thriving rubber plant, and told me to turn left on the third floor and go through the double doors.
The doors were closed and also locked, as I found out when I pushed on them. I rang the bell on the wall under a sign that said RING AND STEP BACK. The doors swung open toward me, and I darted through them before they could knock me over or close me out.
A nurse sat inside a circular desk, writing something on a chart. After a long wait, I cleared my throat, startling her but getting her attention.
"Maribell Morgan?" she said in response to my request. "Down that hall, last door on the right. But you'll have to wait outside until someone comes out. She has two visitors with her now. You are a relative, aren't you? That's all she's allowed to see."
I wiped my eyes and nodded. "How is she?" I asked, hoping I sounded like a concerned relative.
The nurse gave a noncommital shrug and answer: "As well as can be expected."
"Did she have anything with her when she was found?" I asked. "A package or something that I could take home for her?"
The nurse shook her head impatiently. "Nope."
"How was she found?" I asked.
"Evidently Miss Morgan switched on the attic light when she went in, and a neighbor saw it when it got dark outside. She knew nobody was living there, so she called the police."
"That was a lucky break," I said.
"Yup." The nurse turned back to her paper work, obviously finished with me, so I found my way down the hallway to a row of chairs and chose one covered with turquoise vinyl. There, I sat facing Maribell Morgan's door and waited for it to open.
At long last it did, and a stooped man in a black suit stepped out. It was Father Burkholder, who'd been at St. Mary's Catholic Church since the beginning of time. It was well known that Father Burkholder suffered from severe osteoporosis, which caused him always to walk with his head hanging forward as if he were an archaeologist scanning the ground for clues. When he saw my feet, he twisted his neck enough to see who was attached to them.
He smiled when he recognized me. "Why Tori, I didn't realize you were related to the Morgans?"
I smiled at him and hoped that fibbing to a priest by omission wasn't as serious as an out-and-out lie. Even though I'm not Catholic, and my only religious training was from the brief period when my mother embraced Zen Buddhism, I do try to show respect for other people's religious beliefs.
"She's not...dying, is she?" I asked, fearful she might be gone before I questioned her.
"Oh no. But she's not doing good. Not at all," he said, sounding depressed. At least he wasn't wishy-washy about her condition like the nurse at the desk had been. "She's undergone a terrible ordeal for a woman her age. The good Lord was looking out for her, though. Her hip isn't broken, after all."
"Morgan Manor is several miles from here. How did she get there?"
The priest allowed a slight grin to stray across his lips, then his face again turned somber. "She stole a nurse's car keys and drove."
"That was certainly resourceful of her," I said.
"Maribell was always a take-charge type of woman. I really must be going. I do hope I'll see you at our summer fair next week. We could use some publicity."
He left after I'd promised to cover the event for the newspaper.
A few minutes later, J.B. Morgan came out. He had his glasses in his hand and was cleaning them with his handkerchief, so he didn't see me. He jumped when 1 greeted him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, rather rudely, I thought.
"I heard about your aunt's accident. I wanted to express my condolences."
"I didn't realize you knew my aunt."
"I...1 feel like I know her.. .from the house tour, you know"
"I think you'd better leave now," J.B. said.
"Can't I just pop in and say hello?"
"She's sedated." He took my arm and escorted me through the locked doors, rode in the elevator with me, and finally released me in the parking lot.
"By the way," he said, "I've had a chance to review your loan application, and it looks like a mistake was made by the credit bureau. If you stop by the office, I think we'll be able to approve your home loan." He smiled down at me in an avuncular sort of way, and added, "And please don't pester my aunt with any questions. I assure you she knows nothing about Rodney's and Emily's deaths."
Feeling vaguely as if I'd been bribed, I watched him walk toward the bank building on Main Street, and when he was out of sight I got into the truck and drove in the opposite direction. Maribell had been looking for something in her home, something I felt certain had to do with Rodney Mellott's murder, and if I were going to discover what it was I'd have to get out there before someone else came to the same conclusion.
First, I stopped at A
lice-Ann's house. I was pretty sure she'd be home, since she worked Saturdays and usually had Tuesdays off. A look of doubt crossed her face. "I don't know if I should...."
"Just give it to me, Alice-Ann. We owe it to Rodney to find out who killed him. And the answer has to be there in the house."
"Why do we owe him anything?"
"Because we found him. You and I. Together. It's just like the old Chinese belief that if you save a man's life you're responsible for him forever."
"But we didn't save his life, Tori."
"Close enough. We found him. Now he's our responsibility."
"I'm not supposed to..."
"Give me the key. I know you still have the keys from the house tour."
With the key to Morgan Manor clutched in my right hand, I drove out to the house, parked behind the barn where I thought the truck would be invisible from the road, and opened the front door.
A house empty of humanity can become soulless. That is what had happened to Morgan Manor since the day of the house tour. Memories had long ago danced out the windows in a whirl of dust motes, leaving a nothingness in their place.
What am I doing here? I asked myself, as I mounted the staircase to the second floor. Certainly not listening to my inner voice, the one that was saying I was once again acting foolishly. But I kept moving forward because I had to know what had drawn Maribell Morgan back. I had to discover what she was searching for in the attic, and I hoped I found it before someone else did.
Hollow footsteps echoed through the downstairs rooms. I stopped breathing for a minute. Listening. Perhaps the house wasn't empty after all. But there was nothing to hear, and I knew it had only been the reverberations caused by my own feet on the staircase. 1 took another step, on tiptoe this time, and the echoes silently passed me by and waited for me in the long hallway upstairs.
When I was one riser away from the landing, an invisible hand shoved me toward the railing. I'd forgotten the dangerous slope and grabbed the banister to steady myself. A tightness seized my chest, then rose in my throat, brought on by the spookiness of the empty house and my fears of the unknown. With my eyes closed, I waited for my panic attack to subside.
5 Death, Bones, and Stately Homes Page 22