Charmed Bones Page 21
“Kitty? Kitty?” I called. Pluto disdained any form of address except the sound of a can opener, but I hoped if he was in the labyrinth of secret rooms and passages we’d traversed that he would come out and go home with me. Whether Pluto came or not, I had to get Budgie out of there.
“The door has to be here.” Budgie took the candle and went across the space and began pressing on what looked to be a solid wall. His instincts were good and the wall gave, revealing another doorway designed for someone under five foot five and no more than a hundred pounds. Budgie went for it, but he hesitated, turning back to be sure I was following.
“Let me check the trunk,” I said, taking the candle and using it to find the one we’d dropped. “Go on out. Just don’t let that door shut.”
Budgie didn’t need urging. He pressed through and was gone. I went to the trunk and knelt in front of it. Opening it slowly, I once again caught the sulfuric scent of something that had burned. On top of a pile of clothes were what looked like gloves, except they had blades attached to the fingers. And they were big. Bigger than any normal hand I’d ever seen. When I picked one up and slid my hand inside, I understood. The glove had been padded to fit a smaller hand, but it looked like a huge paw.
It didn’t take a three-digit IQ to figure out what had made the marks on the door and window of Dahlia House. But who had been wearing the gloves?
“Sarah Booth! Someone is coming!” Budgie whispered through the opening. “Hurry.”
I grabbed the gloves and closed the trunk lid. Coleman could explore later and the gloves would give him the grounds to execute a warrant. Just as I rose to my feet, I saw something in the mirror.
Black material billowed and then disappeared.
Malvik! Now I knew who’d been in the secret room. Who was still in the room. Malvik! With his black cape and soundless footsteps, he could have been a damn bat.
“Sarah Booth!” Budgie sounded like he was about to bust a gut. “Get out of there. Someone is coming.”
His voice galvanized me into action and I hurried to the slit of light, even stepping into the pentagram drawn on the floor, though it gave me the creeps to do so. Once at the opening, I edged into what looked like a guest bedroom. I was disoriented until I realized this room had an exit door to the exterior staircase on the back of the house. This was perfect for Malvik to come and go at will.
Footsteps came toward us and I was torn between staying and rushing out the back exit. “Hold your ground,” I said to Budgie. “We have permission to be here.” Nonetheless, I tucked the bladed gloves behind me, just in case.
The footsteps stopped outside the hallway door of the bedroom. Slowly the crystal knob turned and the door creaked open. Tinkie stepped into the room, a frown on her face.
“I’ve been hunting everywhere for you,” she said. “Why didn’t you answer me?”
I truly hadn’t heard her calling. “Sorry, how long have you been here?”
“Forty-two minutes, give or take a minute. I was getting worried. Did you find anything?”
Boy howdy, had we found things. I eased the bladed gloves from behind my back and held them out to her. “Hidden passages, secret rooms, gloves with blades on the fingers, and Malvik hiding in the dark.”
20
Tinkie hadn’t spent her morning unproductive. She, too, had plenty to share. Budgie continued to explore the rooms of the manor while Tinkie and I huddled on the exterior staircase to talk. It was best to keep our discoveries completely to ourselves. “What did you find out about the Fontanas’ involvement in the Arlington Woods subdivision case?”
“I don’t have the paperwork in my hand, but the subdivision deal originated with the Fontanas. I talked to one of Fontana Construction and Development’s competitors, Paul Bousquet. He runs another construction company and said Bob Fontana had tried to lure him into a partnership. Paul took a look at the land and passed. He said a fool could see it was a hinky project. So Bob had to know from the get-go that the riverfront land shouldn’t be developed, but they did it anyway because they had a patsy, Claudell Myers, to take the fall. The whole scheme was well thought out. Fontana Construction and Development made a killing off selling that land and those homes. The owners and the bank that financed the development took the consequences. And Claudell Myers, of course. She’s still paying.”
I believed Tinkie was correct, but without evidence, we were up the creek without a paddle. “We need evidence. And how does this involve the Harringtons?” That was where we had to focus.
“Working on it. It’s tricky. Harold can’t really help me. Magnolia Land Bank financed the deal, and they refused to talk to me. But I did find one little thing that was interesting.”
Tinkie was such a tease. And a holdout. “What?”
“An elderly man in Florida, Florian Keel, was the seller. Sell price was three thousand an acre because the land was considered to be usable only for timber. The buyer was an off-shore business that I believe will trace back to the Harringtons.”
“Okay.”
“This Florian Keel is from Lake City, Florida. The sell was managed several years back by his stock broker-slash-financial advisor. A young woman.”
I caught the scent of a great lead. “Wasn’t Faith Harrington a broker? In Florida?” And Cheri Sistrunk had told me the sisters left Louisiana after some type of inheritance.
Tinkie nodded. “It’s too early to point the finger, but this may be the link between the Harringtons and the Fontanas.”
“Excellent detective work, Tinkie.” My partner was worth her weight in gold.
“This is cheap talk and speculation, Sarah Booth. I don’t have any proof yet.” She pointed to the thicket of devil’s walking sticks. “Pluto just went in there. We’d better get him before he’s hurt.”
“Check on Budgie, please. I’ll grab my dang cat.” From now on, it didn’t matter how mad Pluto got, he was staying at Dahlia House. Whenever he got to the manor, he became wild and unresponsive, like he was possessed by the spirits of his panther ancestors. I’d simply had enough of it.
Tinkie went back inside and I hurried down the exterior stairs and into the backyard. I was eager to let Coleman know about the financial connections and the bladed gloves. The first order of business, though, was grabbing Pluto and getting him into the car. Sweetie Pie was sprawled out under a big, leafless maple tree. For a split second I thought she might be injured, but she sat up and looked at me as if I’d transmitted some psychic message. She yawned and flopped back to the ground.
“Pluto.” I approached the thicket of thorny plants. In the daylight, I could see how wicked they were. Thorns ridged the entire trunk. There wasn’t a place to grasp the tree without suffering a painful wound. Even the leaves had pointed, razor-like protrusions. I’d grown up in the Delta and had wandered the fields, woods, and brakes in all kinds of weather. I’d never seen those walking sticks before now. I had a sneaking suspicion they weren’t native to Sunflower County at all.
The trunks of the slender trees grew close together, and I knelt and leaned forward to peer into the dense growth. A black ball of energy hurtled out of the foliage and struck me square in the chest, knocking me over into the grass. “Pluto! Dammit! I’m going to get you for that.” My very own cat had rolled me over. I regained my knees and was brushing the dead grass and leaves off my sweater when a large black snake slithered toward me.
I rolled away from the snake, aware that February was not a month when snakes would normally be crawling. They were “cold-blooded” and slept the winter months away, waiting for the hot spring sun to warm the ground and bring them out. Something had chased the snake out of its nest. Even though it was harmless, I didn’t want a personal relationship with the reptile. I stayed clear as it slowly moved through the dead grass and leaves. What else could be lurking in that thicket of thorny trees?
I heard something, but the growth was so dense that sunlight barely penetrated. I thought I saw movement, almost like a shadow. What
could glide through those thorny trees so effortlessly? The chill that touched my body told me what my brain didn’t want to register. Something supernatural was in the woods. Malvik might be the owner of the claw gloves, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something else about the grounds of Musgrove Manor. Corey Fontana, Tinkie, and I had experienced the sense of being pursued by something swift and dangerous in the woods. No creature that I knew of could move so fast.
Even as I peered into the trees, a pair of glowing red eyes stared back at me.
I cried out and stumbled backward. Pluto came to my defense, arching his back and dancing sideways. He hissed at whatever was in the thicket. Sweetie Pie ambled over and growled deep in her throat, a warning to whatever she sensed was a danger. As I gained my feet and backed away, I realized that the clowder of feral cats had formed a semicircle around me. They were all sitting, gazes on the thicket and tails twitching. I’d never seen anything like it. It was almost as if Pluto commanded their allegiance and they had come to his call. I wasn’t certain if it was to protect me or maybe to eat me—cats could be so unpredictable. Still, I was glad for their presence.
“Sarah Booth!” Tinkie called to me from the landing of the exterior staircase. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Fine.”
“Grab Pluto and let’s get out of here.”
I bent down and captured my black feline. He wasn’t going to get away from me now. Tinkie was correct, we had an investigation to run. It was time to move on.
Budgie and Tinkie met me at the front porch, along with Hope. Budgie wandered out into the yard, giving us a final chance to talk. Hope assessed me with a critical eye. “What did you find up there in Trevor’s rooms?” she asked.
“These.” I held out the gloves for her to look at.
“What in the world?” She reached for them but I withdrew them. “Coleman needs to test these for DNA. You don’t want yours on them.” My DNA wouldn’t be an issue, since I wasn’t a suspect in two murders and I would readily admit to handling the gloves.
“What kind of gardening gloves are those and why would the sheriff be interested?” Hope asked.
Faith came to the front door and slipped out to join us. “Looks like something Freddy Krueger would wear.”
Tinkie frowned. She didn’t get the reference.
“A Nightmare on Elm Street. Great horror movie,” Faith explained. “He appeared in the dreams of teenagers and killed them. He wore gloves like that.”
“Any idea who would have these up on the third floor?” I asked.
“Everything there belonged to Trevor. If they were on that floor, either he or someone he knew had them there.” Hope was matter-of-fact. “We’ve never seen those things.”
“Was Trevor involved with the Fontanas in any of their land-development projects?” Tinkie asked. “I mean, did he ever talk about it? I know the Fontanas wanted to buy this property.” We both watched Faith to see if she reacted. Her expression remained blandly interested.
“Trevor never mentioned any deals with the Fontanas to us,” Hope said.
“Faith, when you were in Florida did you work with any real estate?” I asked.
“A few clients liquidated property and invested.” She yawned. “That was a tedious job.”
“Has Malvik been around lately?” I followed up.
“As far as I know, he’s at the Prince Albert?” Charity answered as if she wasn’t sure. “Why?”
“He’s in the manor. I know it, and you know it. Now, where is he?”
Faith came to stand right at the edge of my personal space. “I don’t care for your tone. What are you accusing us of?”
“There’s something going on here at the manor. Two people were found dead on these grounds. This is all tied in with the Fontanas and their land-development schemes. I’m going to put it all together.” I hoped to provoke her into revealing what she knew about the Fontanas and any deals regarding the dairy.
“I hope you do,” Charity said. “But you’re going to be disappointed when you realize we don’t have anything to do with the Fontanas. Now what Trevor might have been into, I can’t say. You’d best realize that Trevor promised a lot of people a lot of things. He enjoyed messing folks around. He would laugh with us about some of the women who came to model for him and how easy they were to manipulate.”
“What do you know about the hidden room and corridors on the third floor? The one with the pentagram drawn on the floor.” I hadn’t meant to blurt out my find, but I wanted to rattle the sisters out of their bored denials.
“What are you talking about?” Hope looked shocked.
Tinkie might like the Harringtons, but I was her partner. She came to stand beside me. “There’s something going on here, ladies. You know I support you, but events have to be explained. Who’s been hiding in those secret rooms?”
Hope shook her head, and Charity simply said, “I have no idea.”
“We never explored the third floor. That was Trevor’s domain.”
“You were going to buy the property,” I said, not bothering to hide my incredulous tone.
“Trevor would remain living on the third floor,” Hope reminded us. “We had every reason to believe he’d live for a long, long time and we didn’t want to intrude on his living space. We had plenty of room without the third floor.”
“You’re saying you never went up there?” I asked.
“I did.” Faith lifted her chin. “I modeled for him and I slept with him. We got drunk together. But I didn’t poke around his possessions or his rooms.”
“You’re smart women. You aren’t oblivious to what goes on around you. Who’s been hiding out in that room? Is it Malvik?” I followed up.
“Malvik isn’t staying here,” Faith answered. “As to secret rooms, we haven’t been on the third floor—I don’t know how to make that more clear. Whatever is up there has to do with Trevor or his friends, not us.”
“You didn’t paint the pentagram on the floor? There are symbols in each corner of the star.”
“Let’s take a look.” Hope was ready for action.
“Yes, let’s.” I was, too.
We were walking in the front door when a scream stopped us all in our tracks.
Budgie! He’d wandered off into the yard and disappeared.
* * *
“Budgie!” Tinkie raced across the porch and down the steps. “Budgie!”
We scattered across the yard and grounds calling his name, but Budgie had disappeared as completely as if he’d been snatched from the surface of the planet by aliens. It was difficult to tell for certain, but Budgie’s yell seemed to have come from the back of the house, and I hurried there. The only sign of the missing man was one of his fur-lined leather gloves. I’d noticed them because he’d taken them off in the house and tucked them into the pocket of his khakis. The glove was lying on the ground near the thicket of devil’s walking sticks. When I examined the area more closely, I found droplets of blood on the grass and on some of the thorny tree trunks. But the thicket was too dense for Budgie to enter. It would take a magician to get a man Budgie’s size through that thorny jungle without leaving bits and pieces of him all over the place. There was no sign of anyone trampling the plants. Nothing was disturbed.
“Where is he?” Tinkie asked. She brushed her hair out of her face. “Sarah Booth, I fear something terrible has happened to him, and it’s our fault. We brought him here.”
I dialed Coleman. We needed help, and we needed it right away. Coleman wasn’t a deer or game hunter—he’d never taken pleasure in killing animals for sport. But he was an exceptional tracker. When we were in high school, he’d track turkeys, wild hogs, deer, and a host of other creatures for me to photograph. We’d both enjoyed being outdoors in nature, and tracking animals for my photographs had been great fun. Now I needed his skills.
“Coleman is on the way,” I told Tinkie. Neither of us had attempted to touch the glove or the blood. “This is way out of hand.”
But the Fontanas surely were.
The sisters moved away from the thicket of thorny plants and began working toward the dairy, calling out for Budgie. Tinkie went with them, and I waited for Coleman. While everyone else was out of the way, I made sure Pluto and Sweetie were safely in my car and I grabbed my pistol and a flashlight from the trunk and hurried to the third floor. I wanted to photograph the pentagram on the floor of the secret room. And I wanted to finish searching the old trunk. Coleman would be there any minute, but I didn’t want to wait. My gut told me there was something important in that room.
The secret doorway had almost closed of its own volition, but I forced it wider, found several hefty books, and used them to block it open. I didn’t want to get sealed up in there like a character in some kind of Edgar Allan Poe story. Grasping the flashlight in one hand and the gun in the other, I was ready. I stepped into the airless room and stopped.
The pentagram was gone. It had been brushed away. I knelt and swept my fingers over the floor to discover a reddish dust. The pentagram had been drawn in red chalk and someone had eradicated it. Which meant someone could still be in the room and passages.
I eased toward the trunk. I hadn’t had much chance to explore, and I felt badly that I wasn’t out hunting for Budgie, but I believed I’d find answers to Budgie’s whereabouts here, in this little room. I opened the trunk and knelt in front of it. I removed layers of tulle that shook out to be a fancy ball gown from the 1920s, ladies’ white gloves, items that might be packed in a bride’s trousseau back in the day when brides had such things. The items would provide a fascinating history, but nothing criminal. I was about to give up when I found the papers at the very bottom of the trunk. I pulled them out and put my gun down so I could hold the flashlight and read. It took me a moment to realize the papers were a land description, a deed for Musgrove Manor. A deed anchored with Trevor’s distinctive signature. And with a current date. But who had he signed the property over to?