by Ami Diane
The room was empty, with a mound of dishes in the sink and all the food put back into the refrigerator. Ella turned the faucet.
Hot water sloshed into the sink, creating mounds of suds as she washed the dishes—a small penance for her rudeness over the mellorine. She’d have to find a way to make it up to Rose.
Ten minutes later, she was stowing the last clean plate back in its place when a distant knock sounded. She swiped her still-damp hands on the dishtowel and made her way to the entrance hall.
Sheriff Chapman filled the foyer with his commanding presence. Surprisingly, he hung his derby hat on the coat tree alongside his brown canvas duster, an indication that he planned on staying a while.
Ella greeted him and asked how the situation between neighbors had played out.
“The fence has more birdshot than it did before, but otherwise, both men are alive and in their own homes, cooling their heels.”
Ella led him across the entrance hall, stopping at the base of the grand staircase to holler up to Flo. Satisfied with the muffled string of profanities floating down, she continued.
In the kitchen, she poured some of the leftover decaf coffee on the stove into two cups, offering one to Chapman. It was no longer hot but still warmed her hands as she cradled it, waiting for Flo’s footfalls in the hallway.
“You wanna tell me what this is about?” Chapman leaned against the island.
“Why ruin the surprise?”
He scratched at the swath of stubble over his cheek before twisting his handlebar mustache, surveying her. “You’re rather subdued.”
Ella considered this observation. “It’s been a long day. Hey, do you know what mellorine is?”
“Can’t say as I do.”
“Probably for the best,” she muttered into her cup as she took a long draught.
An awkward silence fell between them, and she let it last a whole two seconds before asking how the investigation was going.
“Don’t have much more to go on. I’m going to need both yours and Will’s notes from your interviews. See if I can’t catch any discrepancies and go from there.” His fingers worked overtime on his mustache. “I gotta say, this one has me befuddled. A house full of people, and no one saw anything?”
Ella didn’t tell him that they’d started cataloging people’s movements that night. From her experience, she and the sheriff had different investigative methods.
Always in the back of her mind was the fact that he had the shiny badge and she was just an amateur sleuth with too much time on her hands. She deferred to his skill set and didn’t want to muddy it with her own, even if those skills were outdated by nearly two centuries.
At last, Flo swept into the room, gracing them with her cantankerous, acerbic presence.
She blinked at both of them. “What are you doing in here?”
Chapman straightened. “It’s a pleasure to see you too, Ms. Henderson.”
Flo grunted, her eyes landing on Ella. “How come you didn’t take him downstairs?”
“I was waiting for you. I didn’t think you’d like me showing him—” She stopped when she noticed Chapman watching.
“Show me what?”
“I really don’t want to ruin the surprise.” Ella gestured for Flo to lead the way. The older woman grumbled the whole ten feet to the basement door, her complaining interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words.
The sheriff’s stoic face revealed the mildest expression of curiosity before Flo led them down the steps. When they reached the bottom, Ella’s hand fished around in the darkness for the pull string. Once she found it, the lone bulb illuminated a small section of blood-stained concrete.
“Tell Rose someone will be by tomorrow to clean that,” Chapman drawled. “Why am I down here? You two haven’t been messing up my crime scene, have you?”
Flo brought her hand to her chest and said, “‘Course not” at the same time Ella said, “Define ‘messing up’.”
The sheriff let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Flo, just show him.” Ella rubbed her hands together before pulling out her phone.
“I will if you stop grinning like an idiot. What are you doing?”
Ella was holding the phone up, the camera app open. “Recording this auspicious moment. Hmm, not enough light. Would you mind holding a flashlight in front of your face?”
After calling Ella several colorful names, Flo cranked the phonograph. The bottom skin on her arm wobbled like a turkey’s snood.
“Wait until you see this,” Ella said in a loud whisper, nudging Chapman with her elbow.
Soon, the tinny, haunting music surrounded them, but he seemed unimpressed.
“Yes, I have seen gramophones before, ladies.”
“Not that.” Ella danced from foot to foot, turning her camera to Chapman in hopes of capturing his expression.
Then, the gears in the brick wall groaned and creaked. Slowly, the false wall slid aside.
Ella thought she caught a twitch of Chapman’s eyebrows, but it could’ve been the light playing tricks. Behind her, Flo stepped into her secret armory and flipped on the lights, washing Chapman’s face in amber. Ella zoomed in, her back to the door.
“What have we got here?” Chapman stepped over the track that served as a threshold.
“Used to be a speakeasy,” Flo said by way of explanation.
“That so?” Chapman turned a slow circle, lingering his attention on the part of the wall that had slid aside and the gears behind it.
Slowly, Ella panned away from Chapman to the interior of the room and stopped. It was empty.
Chapter 12
“W-WHAT? H-how?” Ella stuttered.
“Miss Barton?” Chapman stared at her in concern.
“Where did they all go?” She turned a sharp eye towards Flo who just shrugged.
“Where did what go, Miss Barton?” Chapman’s deep voice shook her from her shock. Behind him, Flo shot her a warning glare.
Ella couldn’t help it. “How?” she whispered. Where could it all have gone? And how had the crazy woman moved everything so quickly? To relocate the cannon alone would’ve taken at least four strapping young men, six older gentlemen, or a handful of female rugby players. And up the stairs…?
She shook her head in awe, staring at Flo. “You’re some sort of witch, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re goin’ on about. Might want to get that head of yours checked out.”
“Magic,” Ella said, under her breath, ignoring Flo. “That’s the only explanation. Some sort of sorcery.” A headache began to build at the base of her skull.
Chapman had moved on, probably figuring whatever they were arguing about wasn’t worth his time. Ella hadn’t realized she was still recording on her phone. She tapped her screen and shoved the device back into her sweatshirt pocket, kicking the ground with her toes.
Chapman fixated on the sliding wall-door again. “How’s it work?”
“Heck if I know,” Flo said. “All I do is put the needle on the record and wait for it to slide open. I’ve tried other records. You would too if you heard that same song over and over for years.”
Ella sniffed. “I think it’s pretty… in a haunted house sort of way.”
“It’s nails on a chalkboard is what it is. Anyway, the door only opens for that one song.”
“Hmm, I’ll have Will come take a look at it.” Chapman’s head arched back, following the track in the ceiling. The whole apparatus reminded Ella of those indoor barn doors that were in fad in her era.
“He’ll love this,” she said.
Chapman moved about the room, his gaze snagging on the empty racks that had held an array of weapons not too long before. His mustache turned down, but he moved on.
When he didn’t speak, she continued. “I’m guessing this is where the killer hid. That’s why his prints don’t match any at the party.”
The sheriff—lean, tall, and sturdy as a tree—nodded. His hand pointed at the exp
losion of color on the wall, shelves, and floor. “What happened there?”
At the same time, both women pointed at the other.
He sighed and shook his head. “It stands to reason the killer did hide in here.”
“It also explains why I heard that creepy music.”
“You said it was beautiful,” Flo interjected.
“Same thing.”
“It’s not—”
Chapman held up a hand, disquieting the argument before it grew legs. “Whoever hid here had to know about the room prior to that night. Who else knew of this room’s existence, Ms. Henderson?”
Flo let out a snort. The lines in her face melted when she realized the man was serious. “About anyone who stepped foot in here for some giggle water.”
Ella coughed. “Giggle water. Now, you sound like Will.” Her smile dropped. “Wait, you said there wasn’t anyone around anymore that knew about the room.”
“Names, Flo.” Chapman drew himself to his full height, using her first name. “I want names.”
Flo puckered her mouth.
“Hold on,” Ella said, pulling out her phone again and scrambling to open up the memo app. “Okay, go.”
It was late Tuesday morning the next day, during a lull in customers at Grandma’s Kitchen, when Ella finally had a chance for a breather. She propped her head on her hands, fighting her drooping eyelids.
After getting Flo’s list of names, Chapman had lingered long enough to collect Ella’s interview notes from her. She’d run up to her room and hurriedly snapped photos of all of them before turning them over.
Fortunately, she’d also taken photos of Will’s that day at the diner when Chapman had come in to tell them that Flo’s fingerprints were on the murder weapon. She’d like to believe it had been foresight, but really, she had simply wanted to rehash the details when she could be alone with her thoughts.
Last night, she’d stayed up late, staring at her screen, cross-referencing the list of party attendees with Flo’s meandering list of names before finally succumbing to sleep. It was going to take longer than she thought.
“Here, drink this.” Wink nudged a cup of steaming coffee under Ella’s nose.
The aroma alone from the stout brew perked her up. After dousing a whole cow’s worth of creamer into it, she guzzled it as fast as the scalding liquid would allow.
“You want to tell me why you’re so tired?”
Ella peeped under her lids at Wink, guilt weighing her down like a shroud. Sitting up, she gave a cliff notes version of the hidden room, leaving out anything to do with the weapons cache, only saying that Flo had shown the room to her.
“Hmm, so that’s why you were asking about the previous owners.”
“Indeed. I was up late, comparing Flo’s list of anyone she’d ever seen at the speakeasy with the party goers.”
Wink stared out the front window. The glass was clear, recently replaced after the previous window had an unfortunate encounter with one of Flo’s grenades. Gray light from the soupy weather filtered in.
Something flickered behind the owner’s eyes.
“You didn’t know about the speakeasy?” Ella guessed.
“No.”
Ella stirred her coffee. “But Flo’s your best friend, right? You two grew up together, didn’t you?” She wondered how one woman had been a regular at the illegal bar, dating a bootlegger, without the other knowing about it.
“We went through a period in our late teens to early twenties where we weren’t as close.”
“Oh. Any particular reason?” Ella knew she was prying, picking at old scars by the emotion in Wink’s eyes, but she wanted to get to know both of them better.
“To be honest, I’m not sure. Flo pulled away first. We grew wild, both in our own ways, but… she never told me why she became distant.”
“You never asked?”
Wink shrugged, focusing on Ella, and her eyes gleamed with light once more. “Why would I dredge up the past? She came back to me, and that was enough.” The pink gingham material of her dress swished as she walked away.
Ella stared at the spot where her boss had been standing. What would it be like to have a friendship that spanned decades?
A greater fear grew and bloomed in her chest until she couldn’t ignore it. Whatever the reason for Flo’s withdrawal, what if it happened again? If Wink didn’t know what had caused it, what’s to prevent it from happening again?
It was nearing 3:00, after an unusually long string of customers, before the diner fell empty, save for a single customer hunkered down at the lunch counter, tearing his teeth into a Gut Buster burger.
Ella, Wink, and Flo huddled in the corner booth, far out of earshot. Aged, yellowed paper lay on the table, the corners furling up. After weighing the perimeter of the paper with salt and pepper shakers, a napkin holder, and a bottle of ketchup, Ella stared at the building schematics for the Community Services Office.
She glanced up.“How did you get these again?”
“Robert Foresythe,” Flo said, studying the two-dimensional representation. “He’s a sucker for a pretty face.”
“Pretty face? Whose picture did you show him?” Grinning, Ella held up her hand for Wink to give her a high five.
Her boss did nothing more than stare at the outstretched palm before returning her attention to the layout on the table. Ella’s hand lingered, but eventually, she dropped it with a sigh, muttering, “One day.”
Beside her, Flo sat against the wall. When they had been figuring out where to sit, Ella had scooted the boarder in before she could protest. The last time Flo had sat on the outside during one of their meetings, she’d gotten up to use the bathroom five times, blaming old age, but Ella had discovered her in the kitchen filling sugar dispensers with salt.
“Where in the building are the requisition forms?” Ella asked. “Anyone know?”
Wink pointed, her finger landing on a room in the back on the ground floor. “Stew says whenever he drops them off, Miss Johnson goes back here, and he hears her open a filing cabinet.”
“And Miss Johnson is the secretary, right?”
Wink nodded.
“She’s an ol’ Nosey Nellie,” Flo said. “And hips out to here.” Her hands rose out from her sides to indicate the woman’s girth, no easy feat considering the wall was in her way.
“First of all,” Ella said, shoving her friend’s hands down, “that’s not pertinent. And second of all, you’re one to talk. On both accounts of nosiness and… shall we call it ‘fluff’?”
Flo gave her the bird, and they exchanged insults while Wink got up, poured each of them a coffee, then portioned out three generous slices of apple crumb pie. She divvied out the goods which drew a stop to Ella and Flo’s bickering.
“So,” Ella said around a bite, “the forms are on the first floor. How do we get in? I’m assuming the door gets locked at night?”
Wink nodded. “Miss Johnson closes promptly at 5:15 p.m. every weekday.”
“How do you know that?” Ella asked.
“We go to the same art class, and she always shows up fifteen minutes late. I overheard her telling Gerdie why once.”
“Interesting, so—hold up. Keystone has art classes? How did I not know about this? I love art. Can I join?”
Flo snorted. “I’d hardly call what they make ‘art’, and I certainly wouldn’t call them classes. Just a bunch of wacky drunks with an excuse to gossip and drink cocktails.”
There was a noise of shuffling as both Ella and Wink swiveled their heads to stare at Flo.
“Uh…” Ella began, “then why aren’t you in that class? It sounds right up your alley.”
Flo’s mouth flopped open, and something clicked behind her eyes as if the thought had never occurred to her.
“Anyway,” Ella said, “back to the topic at hand. If the front door’s locked, how will we gain entry? Do you have a spare key?”
“No,” Wink replied.
“Then, are we going to make a
copy of it?”
“I guess we could, but that might take too long. And we’d still need the original.”
Ella leaned forward. “We go to your class, posing as students, and pinch the key from the secretary’s purse, press it into a mold, and return the original before she even knew it was missing.”
“Where on earth did you get an idea like that?”
Ella shrugged. “TV… movies… It’s a common trope in heists. So? Are you in?” She shot her boss a finger gun and a wink, adding, “We steal a key and can get some painting in at the same time. I call that a win-win.”
“That’s a stupid idea,” Flo huffed.
“You have a better one? Wait, let me guess. You want to go into the office when it’s open under some guise, distract Miss Johnson while one of us sneaks into the back room and unlocks a window.
“The unlocked window would go amiss when it came time for her to lock up for the night. We return under the cover of darkness and sneak through the window. Is that it?” Ella stopped for breath and shoved a large bite of pie into her mouth, the fork tines clanging against her teeth, causing her to wince.
Wink gaped at her. “Mercy. Are all the people in your time so…”
“Diabolical?” Flo supplied.
“No. Such schemers. It sounds like television has been a bad influence.”
“You’ve no idea,” Ella said.
“That plan. I like it much better than your stupid art one.” Flo nodded approvingly at Ella. “Maybe you don’t have cotton for brains, after all.”
“Hold up.” Ella scrounged through her pockets, searching for her phone. “First I’m right, and then you pay me an almost-compliment. I have to get this recorded.”
Flo scowled. “Never mind that.”
“So, does that mean we’re going with the latter plan?” Ella’s eyes bounced back and forth between both women.
Flo snapped her fingers as if she’d just had a thought. “Ladder. We should bring a ladder.”