Charmed Bones Page 22

  A shadow fell across me before I heard anything. When I turned to see who’d so silently entered the room, I didn’t have time to register anything before I was struck in the head. I was unconscious before I hit the floor.

  21

  I awoke to find myself in perfect darkness. Whoever had knocked me out had shut the exit and left me without my gun or flashlight. It was possible those items were still in the room, but I had no way of finding them, except crawling around on the floor on my hands and knees, which is exactly what I did.

  The pentagram had already been destroyed so there was little damage I could do. At last I found the flashlight in a corner and clicked it on. My gun had been kicked beside the old chest, and I put it in the back of my pants. My head was pounding, but otherwise I was okay. I made my way to the sliding panel and forced it open enough to get out just as I heard the cavalry coming up the stairs and calling my name. Sharp little kitty claws also dug at the secret panel.

  “Meow!” Pluto was crying as loudly as he could. He gave another yowl.

  “We’re coming, Pluto!” Coleman’s voice came to me as I pressed and pressed on the panel to no avail. I couldn’t get it open. Panic rose inside my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. I had to get out. Immediately. I couldn’t stay in the dark another second.

  “Sarah Booth!” The panel cracked open and Coleman reached in and pulled me out. He took one look at me and wrapped his arms around me. “Are you okay?” His lips brushed my cheek and ear. “Are you hurt?”

  I could have stayed in his arms for a long time, but Budgie was still missing. People were dead. Evil roamed Musgrove Manor. I eased back from him. Close contact made us both susceptible to longings that had no place in our lives at that particular moment. “Someone knocked me out.”

  “What is that red dust all over you?” he asked.

  “Chalk, I think.”

  Tinkie entered the bedroom, then stepped back into the hallway, giving us a moment of privacy. “We haven’t found Budgie,” she called out. “He’s completely disappeared.”

  “That can’t be.” What had I gotten my former teacher into? “He was in the front yard, and then he walked around back, and then he was gone. He couldn’t be more than two hundred yards away.”

  Coleman’s hand brushed against the muscles of my tense back. “I’ve called DeWayne to come out with some volunteers. You’re right, Sarah Booth. Budgie can’t be far from here. No vehicles were near the manor, so he has to be on foot.”

  “Maybe he took one of our broomsticks.” Faith had come into the room. “I’m sure somehow we’ll be blamed for whatever has happened. It’s always our fault.”

  “But you were with me and Sarah Booth,” Tinkie said. She was loyal to her friends, and she considered the sisters her friends, even though we might have doubts about Faith’s financial entanglements. “No one can accuse you because you have a solid alibi.”

  “Where’s this pentagram you were so upset about?” Faith asked. “And the secret room?” She looked around as if she expected to see a sign that read SECRET ROOM THIS WAY.

  “Right in there, but the pentagram is gone. It was only in chalk and someone erased it.” I couldn’t tell if she was playing innocent or if she truly didn’t know about the secret room.

  “I’ll bet someone named Sarah Booth erased the wicked pentagram,” Faith said. “You have chalk dust all over you. What did you do, get down on your belly and do the gator crawl across the room?”

  “I was struck in the head and knocked out. The pentagram had been erased before I hit the floor.”

  She did look surprised, but she covered it quickly. “Maybe it was a ghost, or Malvik, or some dark creature that we’ve conjured up.”

  “Or maybe it’s someone you’re hiding here.” I stepped right into her personal space. I was tired of it and my head hurt. “What’s going on in this house? Where is Budgie? He’s a harmless soul and he better not be hurt.”

  Coleman put his arm around my waist and drew me closer to him. “Calm down, pit bull. We’ll get the answers we need. No one is leaving the premises until we’ve investigated the hidden room and found Budgie.”

  “There were some documents in the trunk. One was a land deed for Musgrove Manor.”

  Faith inhaled sharply. “Land deed? Where?”

  “In the old trunk. Along with some items from a wedding trousseau.”

  “I’ll take a look.” Faith sidled toward the secret room. “We’ve misplaced some paperwork regarding the dairy. Maybe Trevor stuck it in there for safekeeping.”

  “Not so fast,” Coleman said, grasping her wrist. “No one goes in that room or touches anything. It’s now evidence in an assault. What you can do is drive Sarah Booth to the hospital and let Doc Sawyer check her out.”

  “That old sawbones can’t even determine the cause of death,” Faith said. “You sure you want him checking over your honey?”

  I wasn’t going anywhere. “Get a chain saw,” I said, staring right into Faith’s green eyes. “I’m going to cut down that thicket of thorn trees. There’s something in there. Pluto and the other cats have been trying to get us to look. Now we’re going to see what’s what.”

  “You can’t damage our property,” Faith said. “I don’t care about that patch of walking sticks, but you have to ask permission.”

  “May I cut them down?” I asked. If she said no, Coleman would simply get a warrant.

  “Sure.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I need to harvest some leaves and bits of trunk but I can do that after you cut them.”

  I was surprised by her cooperation, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Coleman, do you have a chain saw? We’ll find Budgie in that thicket. I don’t know how he got in there, but I’m telling you, that’s where he is. And we need to find him now. He could be injured.”

  “Show me the thicket. I’ll get some help to cut it down.”

  “We should explore that trunk.” Faith tried to dodge around Coleman, but he grabbed her.

  “Finding Budgie is our first priority. That room isn’t going anywhere.” He shooed everyone into the hall but grabbed my wrist and held me back. Tinkie discreetly closed the door. He lifted my face so he could stare into my eyes. “Are you really okay?”

  “I am.”

  His calloused finger brushed across my lips and cheek. “Are you sure?”

  “Very.” I put a hand on his face. “I’m fine. It’s Budgie I’m worried about. He came here to help me and Tinkie.” I had to believe Budgie wouldn’t be found dead with a look of horror on his face.

  “Something is going on here. I’m not sure what, and I don’t know the underlying motives, but we’ll find out. That’s a promise.”

  Motive was the key. I’d assumed Trevor was murdered for the manor lands. And Esmeralda? That threw a monkey wrench into the whole real estate plot. She had no legal claim to Musgrove Manor and no ties to any development schemes. Her death benefited no one that I could see. And now Budgie. Who would take a harmless former substitute teacher and current prison employee? And why? Budgie could have stumbled around the manor grounds for the next two years and discovered nothing of substance. Now, a full-scaled search would ensue, with trained law officers looking. This was not a smart move if someone wanted to keep something hidden.

  And that was the ultimate question. What was hidden at Musgrove Manor? Satan worship? Witches conjuring dark spells? Real estate deals gone bad? Paintings stolen? What was worth the lives of two people? It was my job to answer that question.

  “You ready to go down?” Coleman asked, his large hand spanning my back and applying reassuring pressure.

  “Let’s get this dog and pony show on the road. I want that thicket removed.”

  * * *

  An hour later I was half deaf from the roar of six chain saws. Devil’s walking sticks littered the ground. Coleman had removed the thicket as an audience of feral cats sat on the roof of the back porch watching. Pluto and Sweetie Pie were right at my
side, as was Tinkie. The Harrington sisters drank iced tea on the back porch. They offered Coleman and the volunteers refreshments, and Charity went inside to make the drinks.

  “Is there any sign of Budgie? A track or anything?” I asked Coleman, who brushed sawdust from his jacket and jeans.

  “Nothing.”

  “What will you do?” I asked.

  “Organize the search crews to move farther afield. I’ve called the highway patrol to put up roadblocks. Somehow the person who took Budgie must have gotten him into a vehicle and driven him off the property. What made you think we’d find a clue in that thicket?”

  “It was the only place he could have gone so quickly.” I remembered the red, glaring eyes. Something was in there, but whatever it was hadn’t left a clue. “What good is Budgie to them?” I asked.

  “Nothing about the series of events that have happened at the dairy makes any sense. All I know is that whatever has been lurking in that thicket is gone.”

  “I’m surprised the sisters let you cut it down.”

  “You and me both. Maybe they were unnerved by whatever was in there.”

  Coleman’s offhand remark struck a nerve. As the men were clearing the debris and searching the area for anything that could lead them to Budgie, I went on the porch. Charity was in the kitchen. Faith and Tinkie went to help her with a tray of drinks for the workers. Hope was the only sister left. Budgie’s absence hung over us all, leading everyone to speak softly.

  “You didn’t care about that thicket?” I asked Hope.

  She never looked at me but watched the men working. “I never liked it. There was always something about it that made me ill at ease.”

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “It’s hard to put my finger on. I always felt something was there. We did use the leaves and trunks in our potions, but I can order those tinctures and powders online. I’m glad to have that patch gone. It didn’t belong here.”

  I took a seat beside Hope. I’d never felt as if I’d connected with any of the sisters until this moment. Hope seemed … normal. Not witchy or pretending to be witchy. Just like a normal person.

  “What do you think happened to Trevor and Esmeralda?”

  “No one believes that we were fond of Trevor, but we were. He was a character. Faith was sleeping with him, like all of his models. But it was that artist-model sex thing that doesn’t translate into jealousy. It was an ego trip for Faith and a conquest for Trevor. I guess that’s the thing I liked best. He was always after the conquest and never pretended otherwise. But if a relationship didn’t go his way, no problem. There were plenty of other fish in the sea.”

  “That might upset some women.”

  “Not with Trevor. He loved women’s bodies. All shapes and sizes. It’s hard to find a man who truly loves the feminine form in all its variations. His next project was going to be pregnant women. He had some ideas for natural backdrops that spoke of the lushness of new life. He was truly inspired by the fairer gender.”

  “Did you ever see the painting of Esmeralda? The one she sued to try to buy?”

  “Faith saw it, but I didn’t.”

  “Did she say where she saw it?”

  “Up in his studio, I presume. I didn’t really ask. She said it was beautiful.” Hope hesitated. “But there was something that really got under Esmeralda’s skin.”

  “She was painted as a religious icon. A saint, as I recall.”

  “That’s right, though Esmeralda Grimes was about as far from a saint as a football is from a pig.”

  “And what was Trevor’s relationship with Kitten Fontana?”

  Hope laughed. “He painted her. He said she had a petite, stocky body type that intrigued him. He said she was a real gymnast in the sack. And she amused him. Sometimes I’d hear them drinking and arguing. She liked to break things.”

  I wondered why Trevor would put up with such bratty behavior. “What did they argue about?”

  “Gallery showings, a shade of green, the outbuildings here on the property, you name—”

  “What about the outbuildings?”

  “Kitten was trying to talk Trevor into razing the old hay barn, the tannery, and the silos. She wanted those buildings destroyed. She said the ground was permeated with death.”

  “Cow death?” Kitten’s concerns over dead cows had to do with … money. It was always about money with Kitten. Getting rid of the outbuildings would hamstring the witches and their school plans and make it easier to develop the property.

  Hope shrugged. “That’s how I took it.”

  “I doubt Kitten ever walked away from a steak. That’s an odd sentiment for a carnivore if not an outright cannibal.” I did believe Kitten would eat her young if she saw a benefit to it.

  “Now that you point it out, you’re right.” Hope frowned. “Kitten was in and out of here all the time. And that spawn of evil of hers, the boy, still hides out and watches us with binoculars.”

  “Because he’s a Peeping Tom?” The witches were sexy and perhaps the boy wasn’t just a spoiled brat but had some psychological issues. With Kitten for a mother, that was not improbable.

  “You’d have to ask him what he’s watching for, but I honestly don’t think it’s us. He seems to be waiting for something.”

  “Do you think Corey Fontana could be involved in Trevor’s and Esmeralda’s murders?”

  Hope considered. “Why? How would their deaths benefit Corey? I mean he’s a brat, but he is just a kid.”

  A good question. “How do their deaths benefit anyone?”

  Tinkie came out the back door, her brow furrowed, her phone to her ear. “Are you certain?” she asked.

  The tone of her voice had me leaning forward in my chair, but I didn’t interrupt.

  “Thanks for calling, Harold.” She hung up. “Bob Fontana is filing papers claiming that Trevor had agreed to sell the dairy to him. He’s in the courthouse right now with signed documents showing an agreed-upon price and Trevor’s signature for the sale of the property.”

  “That’s not possible.” Hope rose swiftly to her feet. “Trevor would never do that. He’d agreed to partner with us, and then if anything came up, to sell to us.”

  Tinkie tapped her cell phone against her palm. “Harold got a call at the bank from the chancery clerk, so we know Bob Fontana is truly filing the papers. Bob is claiming that he has a signed sell agreement executed the day Trevor died. He’s initiating legal proceedings to have you removed.”

  “This can’t be true.” Hope’s color drained. “Trevor liked to tease Bob with the property—to offer it and pretend he’d consider selling just to get Bob worked up—but he never would sell it to him. He’d committed to us. We had an agreement.”

  “What kind of agreement?” Tinkie asked. She nodded enthusiastically. “Show us the document. If you have a signed seller’s agreement, then that will be honored.”

  “A gentleman’s agreement,” Hope said. “Trevor said since he was involved with the school, we didn’t need to hire a lawyer.” Even she realized how unsubstantial her claim would be in court.

  “You said you had it in writing.” Tinkie wasn’t chastising her, she was stunned. “That was one of the first things I asked you and you said you had it in writing.”

  Hope just looked miserable.

  “How much have you paid Trevor?” I asked.

  “We haven’t exactly made a payment. We put in sweat equity. Trevor had fifty percent of the school,” Hope said. “We didn’t pay cash. We offered him a percentage of the business. He was good with that.”

  In a gentleman’s agreement, a handshake was considered legally binding. Such things no longer existed in today’s business world. The sisters had zero legal papers, nada notarized documents. In other words, the sisters had no legal leg to stand on in their claim that Trevor had agreed to sell them the property. Despite the fact they’d assured me and Tinkie that they had a formal buyer’s agreement. I didn’t believe that Bob Fontana’s documents were
real. He’d forged them; I had no doubt of that. But now the burden of proof was on the sisters to show that Trevor had intended the property to be sold to them. And Fontana Construction and Development had all of the firepower.

  “Sarah Booth! Bring flashlights! Hurry!” Coleman called from the backyard.

  Hope and I sprang into action. She got flashlights from the house and I got my big Q-beam from the steps where I’d left it, along with my pistol. If we were going exploring in the dark, I was going to be armed. Coleman must have agreed because he only waved me behind him, and Tinkie came springing down the back steps and fell in behind me.

  We scrambled over the felled thicket until we reached one of the volunteers who was working to clear a space. “There’s a trapdoor here,” the volunteer said. “I heard someone yelling. Either it’s a grave and the person isn’t dead, or there’s an underground chamber and your missing person is in it.”

  “Budgie!” The relief was remarkably sweet. It had to be him, and if he was making noise, at least he was alive.

  “I hope he isn’t injured,” Tinkie said.

  In no time Coleman and his workers had the heavy wooden door free of debris. The wood was weathered and not in the best shape, but the men were able to lift the door. A burst of stale, unpleasant air wafted up. A man’s voice called out for help.

  “We’re coming, Budgie,” I yelled into the opening. “We need a ladder.” My heavy-duty flashlight revealed an opening that was at least ten feet into the ground. There were no stairs or any way to get out. Or get in. Budgie had not come into the space through the door Coleman had found. There had to be another entrance.

  “Wait a minute,” Coleman said, taking the flashlight from my hand. “There’s a ladder in there. It’s pushed back against the wall. And it looks like a series of tunnels.”