The Sour Taste of Suspicion

by CeeCee James

  “Mother, don’t go there. Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “You hush now, boy. Let me finish.”

  Stephen rolled his eyes and slumped back in the chair.

  Aunt Myrtle stared at her bony hands folded in her lap. “You know, I knew I shouldn’t tattle. Later, I wished I hadn’t. It was one of those moments that the second those words left my mouth, I knew I’d done something bad. That I’d changed everything. Well, I’ve never seen Papa so angry. He took one of our uncles and another neighbor and went out there and they tore that rope bridge down. Anna was furious with me and said she’d never forgive me.”

  Elise could almost see the heaviness of that memory weighing down on the little woman. Aunt Myrtle’s shoulders bowed more. The old woman continued in a low voice. “I was crushed, but then, there was nothing I could do about it. I just hoped one day my sister would forget.” She looked up. “But Anna never forgets.”

  Elise jerked at the present tense verb. She shifted and crossed her legs on the other side, propping her chin on her hand.

  Aunt Myrtle sighed. “Then one day I saw her run across the lawn. I followed her. I followed Anna. She climbed up the tree and headed out on a branch, just staring at the cave. I couldn’t help myself and begged her to stop. When she saw me, she screamed and told me to go home. And then her foot slipped. I saw it happen.” Her bottom lip trembled and eyes filled with tears as she looked desperately at Elise. “It was my fault she died.”

  Elise blinked, feeling tears in her own eyes. She reached for Aunt Myrtle’s hand and grabbed it. “It wasn’t your fault. It was in no way your fault.”

  “You don’t know, you….” Aunt Myrtle whispered as tears cut tracks down her wrinkled cheeks. She sniffed and pulled her hand away to reach for her napkin and wiped her cheek.

  Stephen leaned back in his chair with his eyes shut. “Mother, let it go. You’ve been beating yourself up for that for years. What’s done is done. No matter how sad you are, you can’t bring her back.”

  Shock flooded through Elise at the coldness of his words. Aunt Myrtle’s face stiffened and all emotions fell away. She took a sip of her tea. “You’re quite right, Stephen. Thank you.”

  Stephen appeared relieved at the turn of his mother’s response. He picked up a fork and poked at the turkey meat before him. “Turkey, eh?”

  “Don’t you worry. Tonight, we’re having prime rib for your birthday.”

  “Mother, I’m not going to be here tonight. I told you I was going out.”

  “Stephen, I’ve had it all planned. We’ll have an early dinner.” The old woman looked at him beseechingly.

  Either the earlier story or the look softened him and he sighed. “Fine, as long as I can leave by seven.”

  Aunt Myrtle smiled, and the years seemed to roll back from her face. “Good. I’ll let Cookie know.” She cut off a sliver of the meat and brought it to her mouth.

  After the latest story of Anna, Elise was itching to get through lunch and back to the diary. Would it mention the hidden room or Anna’s death? She ate as quickly as possible, feeling like a little kid rushing to go outside and play. Leaving the last few bites, she wiped her mouth. “Lovely lunch. I have a few things to do so I’m going to run,” she excused herself.

  Stephen watched her leave with a flicker of interest in his eyes.

  Elise hurried up the stairwell, unable to stop from cringing at the bare spot on the wall. Secrets. Secrets everywhere. She shut the bedroom door behind her, then rushed to the dresser for the diary. Before she even got to her bed, she’d flipped it open and was reading.

  Dear Diary,

  This is such a sad day, I hardly know what to write. Anna has gone home to be with her maker. Mrs. Montgomery threatened to join Anna and nearly threw herself from the turret window, had not Mr. Montgomery been there to stop her. Poor Mr. Montgomery has been beside himself and we could all hear him begging her to be strong.

  I haven’t seen Myrtle all day, and so I’m going out to search. In the meantime, I’m hiding this behind the brick until I have more time. I don’t dare chance anyone finding it.

  Elise flipped through the rest of the pages, but there wasn’t anymore entries. She shut the book with a frown. Constance had been sent home the very next day as the family shut down with grief, leaving poor Myrtle to mourn not one, but two of her most constant companions.

  Something about the last entry troubled her. Elise opened it to reread, pausing on the words, “behind the brick.” What brick? There wasn’t a brick in front of the hiding spot in Myrtle’s room. Had this diary been moved? But by whom? And where were the treasures that Constance mentioned? Surely they’d been found since then because all the family members were in the dollhouse. Or had they been replaced?

  She decided to return one more time to examine the miniature people to see if there was a sign that they were newer than the rest of the dollhouse. Twice in one day, I’m getting so clandestine.

  Elise tiptoed across the hall and snuck into Anna’s room again. The bottom of the bookshelf beckoned with its unlocked secrets, making her mind spin. One thing at a time here. She walked to the window to push the curtains aside to allow in more light. Then, she turned toward the dollhouse, half in trepidation of discovering something else missing since her visit an hour earlier. I don’t think I can take any more.

  She carefully removed the little girl from the bed and looked her over. The doll’s clothing had faded from years of little children’s hands. Elise returned her and took out the father. His clothing was in a similar style and condition. There was nothing visible to prove that he wasn’t the original doll either.

  So, they must have been found and returned, then. Elise stepped back and studied the house as a whole. The top floor caught her attention. That’s right. The little room. Standing on tiptoes, she studied the room in the back of the attic.

  Just a plain little bed with the same dresser and an old fashioned wash basin that she remembered from the first time she’d seen it. But there was one new thing she hadn’t remembered seeing before, a pair of slippers.

  Nodding, Elise knew exactly who had slept there. Constance. She needed to get up there in that room. There had to be a clue of some sort where the diary had been kept.

  But, it was going to be tricky without stairs. Charlotte had mentioned the entry way to the attic was in her room. Elise settled back to her feet and bit her thumbnail. Do I dare? Just sneak in that room and check it out? What if I get caught?

  But wait. They were all preparing that big dinner tonight for Stephen’s birthday. She wouldn’t get caught.

  Elise sidled out the door and down the hall to the stairwell where, after taking a big breath, she walked up the third-floor stairs acting like she belonged there. Sure, I’m supposed to be here. What am I doing? Oh, just wanted to check out the laundry room with its dumbwaiter. She smiled at how quickly she came up with a cover story. Man, I need to add lying to my résumé.

  The bedrooms on the third floor were all marked with plain doors. She tried to orient herself by remembering where the laundry room was located. The first door opened to display a bed made up with a plain brown coverlet. Two pairs of men’s shoes sat next to the wall. She hurriedly closed the door.

  The next room had a feminine inhabitant but Elise quickly scanned the ceiling and didn’t see a hatchway. She shut the door.

  The third door opened to a bed covered with a calico quilt. Elise glanced at the ceiling and smiled at the sight of the rectangular opening. She glanced behind her to be sure no one was coming and entered the room.

  Once inside, she studied the hatchway again, high above her head. Lovely. There was no way she could reach it, not even on her toes. She looked around the room for something to stand on and snagged the chair from the desk. After situating it underneath, she climbed up and looped her fingers under the handle and pulled. As it came down, cold air gushed from the open attic hole, making her shiver. She wished she’d thought to bring her cardigan but she wa
sn’t going back for it now. Steeling herself with a couple deep breaths, she climbed up the ladder.

  21

  Elise climbed into the attic with her cell phone out as a flash light again. Seriously, when I downloaded this flashlight app, I had no idea I’d be using it like this. The beam bounced off of piles of clutter, that turned out to be chests and boxes, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Nothing weird so far. She climbed off the ladder and onto the floor.

  The light from the phone danced off of the dark eyes of a toy doll, giving her a start. She flashed it around some more, catching a mannequin that stood next to a pile of boxes, a rocking horse with its tail half-eaten away, and several chairs in various stages of decay. The beam wasn’t able to reach the other side of the attic, and she shivered at all of its hidden nooks. Charlotte’s insistence of hearing something drag across the floor sent fear like fire through Elise’s veins. She breathed in deeply. Pull it together. Not a good time to think about that story.

  Pitch black couldn’t even begin to describe how dark the attic was. The cell’s light seemed to battle the darkness, making it feel as though the objects it landed on were jumping out at her. She swallowed several times to control her rising panic. In and out. I can do this.

  There was no noise. In a way, the silence was worse, almost freakier to her ears than a noise. Every step she took seemed magnified. Even her tiptoes sounded like something horrific being dragged along the floor, and the echoes made her even jumpier.

  According to the dollhouse, the little room was down to her left. Did her great grandma have to cross this dark expanse every night on her way to the room? The back of her neck tickled as though someone was watching her.

  You know what? I’m just going to fly through here. No big searches. Just thirty seconds tops. With that goal, she scrambled to her left to search for a door.

  Elise found it right away, as the beam glittered off the old door knob. The strangest feeling hit her when she grabbed the knob, almost as if she could see her great grandma grab it the same way.

  She slept here. Of course, she did this. The door swung open before stopping half-way. The door’s frame must have settled off center, causing the door to drag against the floor. She wiggled through and flashed the light around.

  There was the bed. For some reason, a lump swelled in her throat thinking of young Constance sleeping up here all alone. There were the wash basin and the meager dresser.

  Elise went to the dresser first and pulled on the drawer. It had swelled with moisture and wouldn’t budge. The second one wiggled out a few inches before it jammed, too. The third was no better but was empty from what she could see.

  She swept the light over by the bed. There it was. The brick wall behind the headboard. Getting down on her hands and knees, she looked under the bed, half expecting to see a pair of old slippers.

  Mortar crumbled around the third brick from the bed post. Excitement buzzed through her, replacing any fear, as she wiggled under the bed. Carefully, she scraped at the edge of the brick until she had a grip and pulled it free. Nearly breathless with hope, she shone the light in the dark hole.

  Empty.

  What in the? Who had been here? She scooted out and sat there for moment. Someone had discovered this hiding place already, and it couldn’t have been Anna since Constance hid it here the day the young teen had died.

  Could it have been Myrtle?

  Something clattered in the attic, making Elise’s blood run cold. She froze and listened. Dear God, help me! Did someone follow me up here? Do I turn off the light? Her heart pounded in her chest. She tried to remember some of the self-defense moves from class. Slowly, she edged out of the door, listening.

  There was no other sound. Light shown from the open hatchway like a portal to heaven. She raced for it, not caring any more if she made noise. All she wanted was to get down that ladder and out of the attic as fast as she could.

  Charlotte’s bed came into view below, and Elise almost cried in relief. Quickly, she slid down the ladder and into the maid’s room. She wanted to kiss the ground. How had Constance borne that every single night? Without another moment wasted, she pushed the ladder up and shut the hatch door with a thump. She replaced the chair and quickly scanned the floor for any debris that might have fallen. Satisfied it was clear, she left the room. Her hands shook as she shut the door and hurried for the stairs.

  Back in her bedroom, her thoughts raced around in no coherent pattern. She tried to sit but sprang up again, feeling jittery. This is crazy. I’ve got to get out of here. Maybe go running. She slipped on her hoodie and headed downstairs. No one saw her as she fled outdoors.

  Jogging was just what she needed. By the time she made it to the end of the long driveway her adrenaline had been worked out and her thoughts started to make sense. But really, making sense was just another term for asking a string of questions. Because that was what was happening with each footfall. More and more questions.

  But by the time she hit the end of the lane, the same person was becoming the focus of each question.

  Stephen.

  Why was Stephen back? Surely not for his birthday. He hadn’t even planned to celebrate it with his mother.

  Stephen ran her company with his sister.

  Did Stephen discover the diary? He mentioned he’d heard the story of Anna many times. Had he decided to search out the room of the last nanny that had lived in the house?

  Was his sister, Caroline, in on it too?

  Elise frowned. Now each footfall was saying something different. Poor, poor Myrtle.

  She jogged to the end of Old Parker’s Road and turned down the main street. Shade from the large trees on the side of the road kept her cool, until she ran past the overgrown hedges where the sunlight hitting the pavement was brutal. She hardly noticed the heat with all the thoughts crammed in her head still needing to be recognized. So many questions. But, as many answers as Stephen’s name filled, there was still a problem with him. He hadn’t been in town when the gardener had been murdered.

  Someone else must have done it. Someone close enough that they knew who Elise was. Knew when she was in or out of her room.

  But whoever knew had never set off the trap she had on the doorknob of her room. Did they see the hair sitting there? Or did they come in at a different time.

  Like at night. Electricity zipped up her spine at that thought. No, there’s no way. I lock the door at night.

  Maybe they have a key.

  No. I would hear them. I’m sure of it.

  The thought of Stephen’s arrival date chafed at her. Everything was clicking into place about him. That would have been perfect. But he came after I arrived.

  Unless, Elise’s brain continue to argue with her, he was already in town. This was a possible explanation. After all, he had shown up earlier than Aunt Myrtle had expected.

  Maybe.

  Was there a way for her to find out when Stephen actually arrived? Would airports give out that kind of information? I suppose I could check. Maybe I could text Brad and see if he has any ideas. Her sneakers pounded the pavement and gave her the satisfaction that she was accomplishing something, even though she still was just as stuck as ever in the mystery. She hadn’t jogged since she and Brad had run the half-marathon. I’ve taken too long of a break. I love this. Why don’t I keep up with it? She jogged a mile further, enjoying the burn in her muscles as her thoughts turned toward the marathon. What an accomplishment that had been. From a couch potato to actually competing in a marathon. True, her time was nothing to brag about—she’d finished in the middle of the pack—but honestly, that beat her best expectation. Her only hope had been that she wouldn’t trip and break a leg or something equally as embarrassing.

  Brad had kept her company the entire time. He hadn’t needed the same conditioning that she had needed. He stayed in shape for his job, and boy did it pay off the way he looked. She’d been so proud to have such a hot guy running next to her. He chose me to run with. She felt
the same butterflies in her belly that she’d felt that day.

  Oh, Brad. It will be such a relief when you are finally home for good and we can figure out what’s going on between us. He really was an amazing guy, so patient and so funny. He actually listened to her when she talked like he wanted to hear what she had to say, so different from anything she’d ever experienced before. Her heart warmed at the thought of his sweet smile.

  I need to get my résumé going too. Aunt Myrtle’s niece will be here soon, and this job really isn’t working out for me anyway. It’s making me appreciate and miss my home more than anything. She turned around and jogged back to the lane. There has to be something out there I qualify for. Maybe I should look into online classes and brush up on some office skills.

  Elise jogged past the forgotten homes and down Montgomery Manor’s driveway. The huge maple trees loomed overhead. She glanced up at them and wondered at the stories they would share if they were able to speak. The things they must have seen. Little Myrtle on her bike. Mr. Montgomery coming home with his coins. Maybe even Anna’s boyfriend?

  Elise jogged past the garage and then past her little Pinto that looked so out of place in this environment. Even though the floral landscaping was overgrown, it was still impressive, and her yellow rusty car parked right in the middle was an embarrassment. She was surprised that Aunt Myrtle hadn’t asked her to move it behind the garage. Her steps slowed as her breath came out in huffs. What’s that on my hood? She walked over to examine it, trying to catch her breath.

  Her first thoughts was that it was something dark but a bit sparkly. Suddenly, she recognized what it was and her heart leaped to her throat.

  The replica doll of her was stabbed with a knife into the hood of her car.

  She glanced around the front yard. There was no one to be seen. Scanning the ground, she looked for footsteps. Don’t be silly. The ground is dry, and it would nearly be impossible to leave anything. There did seem to be some grass bent down near her car, maybe by the person who had stood there and jammed the knife.