by Marja McGraw
I winced.
“I was only jokin’ with ya, dollface.” Chris reached out and pulled me to him. “We’re going to be fine. Just give it a slow count.”
“Those cockamamie dogs are going to drive me crazy. I swear they can come up with more mischief, no matter how careful we are.” I tried brushing a spot of grease off my slacks, but of course I couldn’t.
“But on the other side of the coin, they’ve saved our bacon more than once.” Chris stepped away from me and put
his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s finish up and go home.”
~ * ~
On Wednesday morning I slept in until eight o’clock and awoke to a quiet house. Reaching over to wake Chris, I discovered he was already gone. It was so cozy in bed that I would have slept in even later if I didn’t have things to do. I forced myself to get up and start a new day.
I checked Mikey’s room, thinking he’d slept in, too, but he was also already gone.
Climbing down the stairs, I mentally prepared myself to fix breakfast and do the dishes. After that I’d take my shower and face the day. There was a note on the table from Chris, and my whole morning agenda changed.
“Angel,” it said. “I’ve taken Ace and the dogs with me to the hardware store. They’re going with me to change the handles on the office door. We’ll eat breakfast out, or maybe I’ll make breakfast at the restaurant. Mom and Dad are gone, too. They wanted to get an early start on the house. Ma said the twins told them to feel free to start working on it since it’s only a matter of the title search being completed.
Love ya, and have a nice, quiet morning.
Chris.”
I chuckled to myself. That was kind of a wordy note for Chris to write, but it was a thoughtful thing for him to do.
The phone rang and I walked over and answered it. It felt strange not to have Sherlock race me to it and slam into the wall.
“Hello?”
“Pamela, it’s Judith. I just wanted to tell you that if you get bored, you can come over and spend some time with us.”
“Thanks. I just might do that after I eat and clean up. Everything okay there?”
“Weeeell,” she said, drawing the word out, “it appears that someone might have been here last night. Your father-in-law is going to change all the locks today.”
“Was there any damage?”
“You’re not going to believe this, but two of the floorboards were pulled up. Someone sure wants that treasure. Would you bring a broom with you if you come over?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Whoever pulled up the boards left kind of a mess. It looks like we’re going to have to refinish the floors anyway, but this just made it worse.”
“Can’t you hire someone to do the floors? That’s an awful lot of work for you and Chris.”
“Nah, I can do it myself. Besides, that’ll keep me busy.”
“Yeah,” I said, “as if you need anything more to keep you busy. I’ll be over as soon as I eat and get cleaned up.”
I sat down with a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk. It felt odd not to be preparing breakfast for my family, but it was a nice break, too. I saw the copy of Summer’s Ghost sitting next to my purse and retrieved the book to read while I ate. Might as well look for some clues.
Marguerite Holden, or Turnbal, had me hooked from the very first paragraph. The story started with the death of an old woman and the diary that was found in her hands. Her granddaughter opened the diary, with tears running down her face, and began to read about the mysterious life of her grandmother, learning things that shocked her. It might have been too melodramatic, but Marguerite had a way with words that no other author I’d ever read could equal. I understood why she’d been so popular.
And since there was a diary involved in the story, maybe it would contain some clues about a treasure. One could always hope.
Chapter Twenty-three
Forcing myself to put Summer’s Ghost down, I cleaned up the breakfast dishes and took my shower. After washing my hair and towel-drying it, I let the natural curl have a break from the blow dryer. I was anxious to drive over to the Turnbal house to see what happened. Besides, I could wear my hair up for the restaurant shift in the evening.
I had a feeling we’d all think of the old place as Turnbal House from now on. In reality, since a famous author had lived there, it was kind of a famous house. Finding out it had secret compartments made it even more of a legend. Of course, the legend was only known by my family and a few neighbors – and one killer. I shouldn’t forget that. A brief thought about finding Kimberly’s body swept through my mind, but I brushed it aside. I wanted justice to be done on her behalf, but I knew if I dwelt on her death I’d start having nightmares about it. Better to set it aside.
A sudden thought struck me and I almost groaned. Big D knew about the secret compartments in the house, and his girlfriend, Sharon Stone, worked as a reporter for the local newspaper. She was always looking for a juicy story in the
hopes of moving up the ladder at work. I hoped he hadn’t mentioned the house to her yet. I’d ask Chris to check with him. The fewer treasure hunters who knew about this, the better.
Picking up my purse and car keys, I hurried outside in anticipation of going to Turnbal House. I stopped dead in my tracks and rolled my eyes when it struck me I had no way to get there. Chris had taken the Chevy, and we’d loaned the Jeep to my in-laws. I almost smacked myself in the head, but as I glanced down the street I saw a familiar truck driving slowly toward our house.
Standing on the curb, I waved my hand at Big D. He pulled up next to me. “Hey, Davey, can you give me a ride to the old house?”
“Sure. Hop in. Where’s Chris? I was hoping I could pick his brain about the types of things his mother likes.”
I threw my broom in the back of the truck and climbed into the cab of the truck. “She likes anything and everything. She’s got very eclectic taste. But you need to talk to her, not Chris.”
“Do I have to? That woman kind of scares me.”
I laughed. “Why?”
“She’s in-your-face about everything. She gets so excited when she talks about what she wants that I wonder if she’s going to explode.”
“Speaking of explosions, you haven’t mentioned Turnbal House to Sharon, have you?” Maybe I could stop Sharon from snooping with a word to Davey.
“Wasn’t I supposed to say anything? Nobody told me to keep my trap shut.”
I sat quietly for a moment, trying to think of a tactful way to tell Davey that his girlfriend was a royal pain in the neck. She had a knack for sticking her nose into everyone’s business, and nothing seemed to get past her. Her one redeeming trait was that she adored Big D and treated him
well.
“Pammy? Did I make a mess of things?”
No one on the face of the earth called me Pammy except Davey. He was the only galoot who could get away with that name. I smiled at him, my attitude softening. He was like a giant, gentle Panda bear, and sometimes his innocence melted my heart.
“Uh, Pammy? Are you going to answer me? Today?”
Glancing out the window of the truck, I noticed that storm clouds were moving in again.
“Sorry, Davey. I was thinking. I’m sure Sharon already knows about the murder that was committed in the house, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And now she knows about the hidden compartments?”
“Yeah.”
“And has she said she wants to go visit Turnbal House?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh huh. Okay, let’s try to figure out how we can head her off.”
“Too late. She was going to drive over to talk to Chris’s mother this morning. I’m really sorry, Pammy, but I didn’t know it was a big secret.”
I smiled to myself. I had a feeling Judith wouldn’t have any trouble dealing with Sharon. In fact, I hoped we’d get there in time to see it. “That’s okay. It’s not your fault. I should have said something sooner. I ju
st didn’t think of it.”
Big D glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “I know you don’t like Sharon all that well, but – ”
“Oh, no, you’re wrong. I like her just fine. I only wish she’d keep her nose out of things until a better time. Like never. As a person, I think Sharon is sweet. At least, she can be when she wants to be.”
Davey was frowning slightly and his mouth looked pinched.
“I really do like Sharon, but she happens to be a reporter, and sometimes I don’t want her to know about things. In fact, why don’t you bring her in for dinner one night this week – our treat? Chris and I will join the two of you. Phyllis can watch things while we eat.”
I sure was giving away a lot of free dinners lately, but I wanted to make up to Davey for my comments about Sharon. It wasn’t his fault he’d fallen for a nosey little go-getter. And actually, I liked Sharon as long as she wasn’t asking questions about sticky situations.
“Sure. We’ll be in. Chris and I haven’t had much of a chance to jaw lately anyway.”
Which meant I’d be stuck entertaining one very annoying female reporter. For a woman who attended church every Sunday, I wasn’t being very generous about Sharon. I’d work on my attitude, and I’d start immediately. After all, she’d probably be at Turnbal House when we arrived.
I saw her car parked in front of the house as soon as we turned the corner. Davey smiled at the sight of it and, shoving aside my trepidation, so did I. It was time to set the tone for my visit with Sharon. Like a mantra, I repeated I’m happy to see Sharon today, over and over in my head while we walked up the walkway. Turning my eyes skyward, I saw that the clouds were thicker and blacker than they’d been when we left my house. The wind had kicked up, too.
The front door was open and voices drifted out to meet us.
“…and then there was the time I made pillows out of dog fur. That didn’t seem to go over very well though because people had allergies, and the idea of dog hair seemed to give most potential customers the creeps. After that I tried making fluffy little toys by gluing the same dog fur to animal shapes, but I ran into the same problem. No one seemed to get how
cool the toys were, even after I explained that the fur came from dogs who’d been clipped. I finally threw all the fur away and turned to renovating old furniture. Some of it…”
Judith turned when she heard us enter the house. “Oh, Pamela, there you are. I wondered if you were still coming over.” She was smiling, and yet I could see relief on her face.
I waved at Sharon and she nodded in return. I noticed she was letting her brown hair grow out and the way it framed her face made her eyes, also brown, stand out. Although we were about the same height, around five foot four, the similarity ended there. Sharon was somewhere in her mid-twenties, about ten years younger than I. Where I had a husband and son, Sharon had no one. Her family lived out-of-state. The only thing we really had in common was our fondness for Big D, and even that wasn’t much of a match since she was his girlfriend and I was his friend.
“I had to get a ride from Big D. I forgot I didn’t have transportation today. Chris drove over to the restaurant to change the door handles.”
My eyes drifted across the room to the uprooted floorboards. “You weren’t joking when you said someone made a mess. I’ll go get the broom.”
I heard Davey talking to Judith and Chris Sr. as I walked out the door. “I’ll take care of this for you. Do you think they found anything? I’m going to need to either sand these boards or buy some new ones. They really tore these up.”
I’d almost made it to the truck when I heard footsteps coming up behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Sharon following me.
“That mother-in-law of yours is quite a, uh, character.” Sharon sounded like she’d probably chosen her word very carefully.
“She’s a little eccentric, but she’s lovable. I heard her telling you about some of her projects.”
“Yeah, but not the one I want to hear about. I want to know about the search for those hiding places. There’s a story in this somewhere. Do you think maybe there’s really a treasure hidden here?”
“Treasure?” I said, trying to sound incredulous. “What treasure?”
“Come on, Pammy.”
I gave her a scathing look, hoping to distract her. Yeah, like that was gonna happen.
“Sorry. I meant to say Pamela. I’ve already talked to your mother-in-law, so I know something’s going on. And of course a woman was murdered here. You know her death must have something to do with all the secrets this house holds.”
“I don’t know any such thing,” I said. “No one knows why that sweet young woman was killed. The police are working on the case, and if you want to know more, you’ll have to talk to Janet Murphy.”
Sharon’s mouth pursed. “Detective Murphy doesn’t like to share information with me. We don’t get along very well.” At least she was being honest. “In fact, she’s downright nasty when I try to talk to her.”
I’m happy to see Sharon today. I’m happy to see Sharon today. “Oh, Sharon, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Maybe it’s the way you ask questions. I know you’re a reporter, but sometimes you sound like you’re accusing people of something.”
“Accusing them of what?” she asked.
“Oh, sometimes you sound like you think they’re withholding information, or maybe actually lying to you.”
I was surprised when she unpursed her lips and cocked her head, seeming to think about what I’d said. She usually jumped in with both feet and thought about the consequences later.
“You might have a point. My editor said the only reason he hasn’t promoted me is because of my lack of maturity. He said I can be too abrasive, even for a reporter. I need to pick my battles more carefully.”
“Well, there ya go. Maybe if you approach people differently, they’ll talk to you. Sometimes you need to take a gentle approach, and I’ll bet you’d get a lot further.” I raised my eyebrows at her as though asking what she thought of my idea.
She put her hand to her face with her fingers touching her lips and chin. Dropping her hand, she said, “I’ll try it. I’ll try a whole new approach.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m young and people might think I’m an innocent. They’ll talk to a young, innocent woman, right?”
“You’d think so, but it’ll take more than acting young and not too bright.”
Sharon surprised me again when she held out her hand. “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”
I took hold of her hand and we shook. “Anytime.”
We returned to the house and found Davey pulling up another board from the floor.
“What are you doing?” I couldn’t believe he’d be tearing up more of the floor with Judith quietly standing by, watching.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Judith asked me to pull up a few more boards, just in case whoever did this might be right about something being hidden here.” Big D appeared to be ill-at-east when he glanced at me. He quickly looked away.
“Well,” Judith said, “someone had a reason to pull up the floorboards. Something must have made it seem like a reasonable thing to do.” Unlike Big D, she didn’t look at all uncomfortable.
If Carol and Coral could see what Judith was doing, I wondered if they might have second thoughts about selling her the house.
“Davey, can I ask a favor? I know you’re having a ball ripping the house apart, but I want to check out a house a couple of doors down, and I don’t want to go alone.” I wanted to see if the man from the restaurant really lived next door to Kimberly’s house or not.
I could see relief written all over his face. “Sure. I’ll go with you. Sharon and Judith can talk about the house while we’re gone.”
Sharon winked at Big D. She played him like a violin
and sang a sweet tune. But who was I to judge? If he was happy, that’s all that mattered.
I explained t
he events of the night before to Big D while we walked down the street, giving him the abbreviated version.
“And he actually slashed the tire?” Davey sounded angry. Someone had messed with his friends, and he didn’t like it.
“I don’t know if it was actually the same guy or not, but it makes sense. It might tell me a little more if I know he really lives in the house.”
I pointed past Kimberly’s home to a neatly kept yard and home. The house was older and painted white with blue trim, and it looked relatively small compared to the rest of the houses in the neighborhood. There was no porch, so the walkway led straight to the front door. Whoever lived in the place had done their best to present a neat yard with a tree in front and a flowerbed that spanned the front of the home. The lawn had recently been mowed and there wasn’t a weed in sight.
We walked to the front door and knocked. Well, Big D knocked so it was more like pounding. I saw someone pull a curtain aside and peek out the window, so I waved, trying to soften Big D’s size and loud knock.
I heard the deadbolt being unlocked and the door opened a crack.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
I couldn’t see more than an eye, but the voice was that of an elderly woman. Considering how low her eye was, I figured she must be pretty short.
“Hello,” I said, sounding as friendly as possible. “My name is Pamela Cross. Can you tell me if a man lives here? I’m looking for someone who visited my restaurant last night. He’s about five foot seven, slender and has thinning brown hair.”
“No, that description doesn’t sound like anyone I know. Did he do something wrong?” she asked.
“He dropped a cell phone and I wanted to return it,” I lied. “He mentioned he lived next door to Kimberly’s house.” I pointed next door.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” she said uncertainly, and closed the door.
Turning to Davey, I said, “Hmm. Did you get the feeling she knew exactly who I was talking about?”