Three Can Keep a Secret, page 11
I stopped a few feet into the room and looked around. Here, too, everything was in order. I leaned against the nearest armchair and looked up at the raven.
“Someone finally got rid of her. I’m shocked, but not surprised. The police think it might be one our own, you know. I’m not so sure.”
There was no response. The only sound was the wind in the trees outside. A branch tapped against the window. “‘Suddenly there came a tapping,’” I said, quoting Poe’s famous poem, and walked over to look out. No sign of the manor ravens, or any other living thing, in the side yard or on the path. The branch tapped again, near the top of the frame. That’ll need to be cut back, I thought. I’d let Helene know. I turned back to my feathered friend.
“Agnes saw something that night, out near Winding Ridge Road. Something strange, she said. She didn’t want to tell the police, but I think it could be important. I’m going to tell them. She’s a recovering alcoholic, but she’s never been stupid. They’ll take her seriously. I’ll keep you posted. Got to finish my rounds.”
I was at the door when I heard a muffled clang from the corner of the study. I whipped around. Lifting my flashlight, I turned it on, aiming it at the corner of the room. There was nothing there. I found the switch for the overhead light and turned that on, then spun in a circle, checking every corner of the room. I was alone.
I walked back to the corner where I’d heard the noise. Nothing had fallen, but at the edge of the carpet I spotted a metal grate in the floor. It was part of the antiquated heating system. Grates were all over the building, but I’d never noticed this one. The only time I had to pay attention to them was when the boiler signaled distress by clanging and gurgling. It echoed all over the manor as the sound traveled through the vents. The last time it happened, we’d had a chilly few days and a big repair bill. But one clang did not a broken boiler make. I’d give it another couple of minutes, though. If I heard anything else, I’d have to go check.
I flipped off the overhead light and waited. I’d decided we were in the clear, when I heard another metallic clang, followed by a cough. That wasn’t a mechanical noise. Someone was in the boiler room. Or possibly the basement, I thought as I calculated where I was in relation to the rooms on the lower floors.
Probably a perfectly good explanation, I said to myself, patting my back pocket to make sure I had my phone, and then speeding down the main hall. Perhaps a confused volunteer. The Friends were always conscripting spouses, children, and unwary neighbors to help with big events, and they did sometimes wander off. Or flee. Either way, I decided to snag one of the volunteers on door duty on my way to the basement. Hopefully someone who could manage the basement stairs quickly if need be.
I was in luck. A regular library user and retired Marine named Mike was sitting on the stairs, looking bored. His wife, a volunteer, was talking to someone holding two loaded shopping bags. I caught Mike’s eye and gestured. He jumped up and came over.
“Borrowing him for a few,” I said to his wife with a wave and a smile.
Once out of earshot, I said to him, “I’ve been hearing some odd noises in the basement. I think either someone’s lost, or the boiler’s acting up. Not sure which, but I wanted backup.”
He nodded, straightened his shoulders, and looked at my flashlight.
“Nice and heavy,” he said. “Got another one of those?”
“There’s one in the boiler room. We’ll check there first.”
“Lead the way,” he said. “I’ve never been down here. Boy, this place is a maze once you leave the main floor.”
“It’s all the old servant’s stairs and utility rooms,” I said. We went down another half flight next to the staff room. The boiler had been added long after this part of the house was built, fit in by expanding and cementing an old root cellar. I opened the door, turned on the light, and handed Mike the flashlight on the shelf above the switch. The beast of a heating system was humming along. No lights on the control panel were flashing, and there wasn’t a clang or a gurgle to be heard. Mike made a quick circuit of the room.
“All clear,” he said. “But this thing is ancient. I can see why you’d worry.”
We closed up the room and went back up to the staff room. I looked in as we went by—empty.
“This way,” I said. We got to the end of the hall.
“I found this closet open earlier,” I said. It was closed now, but I checked inside anyway, shining my light around. No vents or grates, so whatever I’d heard had to have come from the basement. I shut the closet door and turned to the basement. Mike turned his flashlight on. As I reached for the knob, the door swung open.
I gasped and stepped back. There was a man standing inside in the door frame. Mike swung his light up, temporarily blinding the stranger, who threw up an arm and staggered back toward the stairs behind him. Mike grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out. Something went flying and landed with a clatter. Without releasing his hold, Mike steadied the man and then turned off his flashlight. I took a closer look. Though dusty and dressed for dirty work, he was recognizable.
Richard Hunzeker.
“Richard? What are you doing here?” I asked.
I looked at Mike and nodded. He let go of Richard’s arm.
Richard sighed. “Checking the fuses,” he said.
“After hours on a Friday?” I said.
He looked abashed.
“Anita had asked me to look at them before the book sale. One year the sound system wouldn’t work because a fuse blew. It knocked out some other things too. It was chaos, with all the little kids in their costumes and the sale going on. Since then, every year she’d have me come in the week before and check them all. There’s also been a lot of issues with the wiring lately. I wanted to give it a good going over. But—well, with everything going on, I forgot until this afternoon, when Sloane called to double-check what time to bring Caleb to the costume parade.” He shrugged. “It didn’t occur to me to check in with anybody. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mike said. It sounded perfunctory, but Richard took him at his word.
“Thank you,” he said. “I still can’t quite believe it.”
“Neither can I,” I said. “I don’t think any of us can. Here, I’ll help you gather these tools. Mike, they probably need you back on door duty. I’ll see him out. You are finished, aren’t you?” I said to Richard.
Mike gave a wave and said he’d put the flashlight back on his way upstairs. I knelt down to help Richard with his toolbox.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “No need for you to get dusty and dirty too.”
“It’s fine,” I said, handing him some things that had rolled away from the box. It seemed an odd assortment of items, but then I wasn’t handy, and I knew nothing about electrical systems.
Richard piled everything into the box. “I’ll tidy it up later,” he said, snapping it shut.
“Okay, I’ll walk you out. I need to check a few things.” I had no reason to think he wouldn’t leave, but I’d had no reason to think he’d be roaming around the building tonight either. I decided I’d see him to the door.
“Are the fuses all in order?” I asked as we walked.
Richard shrugged. “They’re all recently replaced, but the wiring in the whole building needs an upgrade. I know it’s inspected regularly, but it worries me. Anita didn’t go about it the right way, but she made a good point about the maintenance on the manor.”
Once Richard had walked out to the parking lot, I went back downstairs and made sure all the doors were closed and that nothing was on in the staff room. I turned off the lights to discourage anyone from going down, and then stopped to check the alarm panel. No blinking lights signifying that people were moving around where they shouldn’t be, but the system didn’t cover the whole building. That was something else that needed upgrading. More than once I’d thought that there was someone else in the building when I was alone or closing with one other person, but I’d never been able to prove it. I hadn’t done a careful search for secret passages, but I’d tried to get my hands on a copy of the building plans. Apparently, there were none, which struck me as odd. There’d been plenty of work done on the manor, and the original building was of interest to local historians, but no one could find anything related. I knew Helene had tried years ago, because I’d asked her. And I’d heard Anita say she’d like to find some as well. That was recent.
Had she? Helene hadn’t mentioned it. I would have seen anything Anita had requested from another system. But she did have connections through the historical society and whatever other organizations she was involved in, so she might have found something. Who would know? Richard or Sloane, maybe. Possibly even Cynthia Baker. Worth checking. I’d add it to my list.
The rest of the evening passed without incident. The Friends wrapped up their sale, secured the remaining baked goods, and handed off the cash to Agnes. Mike and his wife stayed—she was in the office organizing table signs for the next day, so Mike accompanied me on my final tour of the building.
“You know,” he said as I checked doors and windows on the second floor, “I always liked this place. I wouldn’t want the library to move. But it’s not too secure, is it? In the last year I’ve started to think that maybe that Hunzeker woman had a couple of good points. But still. It’s going to sound fanciful, but the manor has always reminded me of a book I read as a kid. The Secret of Terror Castle. Ever heard of it?”
“My dad had it. Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators,” I said. “I read it too.”
“I read them all,” he said. “And I’m fond of the manor, but I’ll bet it’s got plenty of secrets. Sometimes I really wonder about the place.”
“So do I, Mike. So do I.”
Chapter Eleven
Book sale day dawned bright, clear, and crisp. I got in early and managed to catch Helene for a few minutes. I explained the dilemma with Anita’s interlibrary loan requests and the interest from other parties, including the police.
“We had something like this happen once before, years ago. Check it out to the reference card and give it to me. I’ll lock it up until I talk to Sam. That way it’s out of your hands.”
“I’ll get it for you,” I said. And if anyone else asked, I’d say I had nothing and encourage them to place a request for any items they might need. It would be interesting to see if they did.
“Thank you, Greer, and thank you for letting me know,” said Helene. “If anyone is looking for me, I’ll be in my office until the costume parade.”
Helene looked exhausted. My guess was that the board was having a collective meltdown, and a lot was landing on her. Anita’s murder left a leadership void and required a delicate balancing act in terms of public relations. She’d been closely associated with the library, and there had been a great deal of heated debate around the subject of a new one. The person who would normally handle that kind of problem was Anita, so the remaining board members had to be scrambling. There was not a lot I could do to help with that, so I decided to offer the best support I could think of. It was something that always worked for me.
“I think the donuts just arrived,” I said. “Would you like me to bring you one, along with the thesis?”
“That would be nice, Greer—thank you.”
I snagged a donut for each of us and went to my desk. I pulled out the thesis and processed it, then decided to take one more look through it. I couldn’t imagine what could be so important about this. I flipped pages, stopping here and there to read a paragraph. My eyes started to glaze over. I liked academic mysteries but didn’t want to live one if it involved slogging through this kind of reading.
I was putting the thesis in an interoffice envelope when something niggled. Academic mysteries. Missing documents. Research. It seemed like there was something I should be thinking of. A book I’d read? Nothing came to me, but still, I hesitated. I pulled the thesis out and found something to prop it open with. Then I got my phone out and took pictures of the title page, table of contents, and bibliography, making sure I got all the details on each page.
“Why are you doing this, Greer?” I muttered, hoping my subconscious would burp up a reasonable reply. It remained silent. Well, I could always go home and stare at my bookshelves and see if something jumped out at me. It’s not like I’d have time to do any research at work today. Besides, the library didn’t arrange fiction by genre. Satisfied that I’d gotten the best shots I could, I packaged the thesis, marked it “Confidential,” and brought it to Helene, along with her donut. Then I put on my cape and fascinator, armed myself with my wand, and went to wake up the computers in the reading room. Ben and Beau would be arriving any minute, and I wanted a chance to say hello.
I was still zipping around when Beau strolled in, sporting a frock coat and looking like he could have stepped out of one of the Ravenscroft portraits in the hall.
“Great fascinator,” he said. “Are you the Wicked Witch of Raven’s Breath? Where’s your broom?”
“Watch it,” I said. “I’ve got a dragon wand, and I’m not afraid to use it. And that’s Raven Hill if you please. You shouldn’t mock it—take a look at the pictures out there, and you’ll see you fit right in. Nice of you to come as an early Ravenscroft.”
“I’m the Marquis de Lafayette.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Not a common Halloween choice.”
“I got it for a watch party when Hamilton started streaming. It’s my go-to costume now.”
“It does show your legs to advantage,” I said. “And what’s Ben’s costume?”
“Aladdin. He was in a summer stock production ages ago that folded suddenly. He never got paid, but he kept the costume. It still fits, so he pulls it out once in a while. He figured the kids would like it. He even brought a ratty old carpet to set up the face-painting station on. Though you seem to have plenty here,” he added, lifting the corner of the rug with the toe of one shiny, buckled shoe.
“Don’t be a snob,” I said. “These are all the real thing, just too stained and moth-eaten to be worth preserving. There’s more stashed in the attic and basement.”
“The place is a museum. Speaking of the basement, Jilly sent me in to get a frame. She said it was downstairs and to get a dolly from the boiler room, and to yell if I needed help.”
“I think you can manage it on your own—you’re tall enough.” I gave him directions and sent him on his way, promising to be out when I got a chance. That turned out to be a few hours later. We were mobbed from the minute we opened, and the phone rang off the hook all morning. I was glad Helene always had the whole staff scheduled on book sale day. Everyone did some time in the reading room, but there were enough of us that we got a few breaks. The volunteers directed traffic at each door and the halls, so things went pretty smoothly. Everything would quiet down after lunch, when all the activities except for the book sale were over.
It was a little after eleven when I made it outside. I’d already admired the finery of the costume parade participants who had come into the library after the big event. Caleb’s costume did both light up and blink. He was so happy I figured he wouldn’t take it off until his batteries ran out. Richard was beaming at his grandson, obviously thrilled with Caleb’s reaction. Sloane trailed behind them, occasionally taking a picture with her phone. She looked anxious and exhausted. She didn’t even greet me when I walked by—just stood there biting her lip, laser-focused on her father and son while seeming impervious to their joy.
When I got to the lawn, it was mostly bigger kids and adults, here for the pumpkin carving and the sale. Beau was manning the selfie station—the frames we’d found in the attic were set up in front of a blank screen, with a big box of props nearby. He was trying to convince Millicent, of all people, to get her picture taken. Ben was hard at work painting sugar skulls on the cheek of a tween dressed as a character from Coco. His Aladdin costume, complete with carpet, was a hit. I saw two people stop to take his picture—one from the local paper. Both Ben and the kid in the chair hammed it up for the photos.
When the photographers left, the boy getting his face painted called out to me, “Are you going to do a selfie, Ms. Hogan? I am when my face is done. You’re a witch, right? I mean, your costume.” The last bit was a hasty add-on. Beau smirked.
“I will if Ms. Ames will,” I said. “Or how about the two of us together? It would be great for the website.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Millicent protested. “I really don’t photograph well.”
“Nonsense,” Ben said. “You have wonderful bone structure. Absolutely classic. How about you and Greer in that horizontal frame? Beau?”
“Got it,” Beau said. “Ladies?”
“Go ahead, Ms. Ames. Wait—you need a costume too.” The boy jumped down from his chair and rummaged around in the trunk. “Here,” he said, holding up a mortarboard, complete with tassels. “You can be a professor. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine, thank you,” Millicent said. She took the cap and we both stood in front of the backdrop. Beau propped the frame on something Jilly had rigged up to hold it, and then took my phone and snapped a couple of pictures. Then he did the same with the library’s digital camera.
“If you don’t have your phone, I’ll send you these,” I said to Millicent.
“I should carry it, but I don’t. It’s upstairs. I would like them, thank you.”
“Now just you.” Ben appeared, holding a different frame. Millicent protested, shaking her head and sending her mortar board tumbling. Ben retrieved it and whispered something to her that made her laugh. I took a few pictures of them and some of Millicent once Ben had coaxed her back into the hat and the frame. She seemed to be enjoying herself. Maybe she really was winding down—she was usually so reserved and formal. Possibly she’d tried the CBD oil her doctor had recommended. Would it have this effect? I didn’t think so. In retrospect, she had let her hair down a bit when I was working with her the past few months. We’d had a few laughs. But Jilly was right when she said she couldn’t imagine the library without Millicent. I’d only been there a year, and neither could I.
