7 Never Haunt a Historian (13 page)

Lester moaned. His lids opened only halfway, revealing bloodshot eyeballs that rolled in their sockets. The lids shut tight again.

Leigh put her fingers in the hollow beside his Adam’s apple and was relieved to feel a decent pulse. She examined his face more critically and could see that despite the blood, the cut on his temple was neither deep nor serious. Whether it had been delivered along with a concussion was another matter.

“Hang on, Lester,” she said soothingly. “You’re going to be just fine. I’m going to get some help now, okay? I promise I’ll be right back.”

Lester made no response, but his breathing and pulse remained steady.

Leigh made a beeline for daylight and didn’t stop until she was fully under the clear blue sky. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911. She might or might not have been able to get reception in the cellar, but regardless, she felt safer above ground. The valley, creek, and woods looked as bucolic and innocent as ever. The only beings up and moving at this hour were her and the birds.

She requested an ambulance immediately but refused to stay on the line, as she needed to reach Emma and did not want to leave Lester alone. The Brown’s phone rang four times before a bleary-sounding Emma picked up, her voice hoarse with sleep. “Hello? Leigh?”

Caller ID was a wonderful thing. Leigh was sure that if Emma’s phone had read “private caller” or nothing, she would never have stirred at all.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Emma asked with a yawn. Then her voice seemed suddenly to sharpen. “Is it about Archie?”

“No,” Leigh responded, wondering if Emma usually woke up alone. “It’s about Lester.”

“Lester?” Emma repeated, sounding bleary again. “He’s around here somewhere. You want me to fetch him?”

“I’m with him already,” Leigh explained. “At Archie’s tool shed. I’m afraid he’s been injured.”

Emma’s voice snapped to full alertness. “Injured? What? He was sleeping right here… I mean…” there was a pause. “Where did you say he was? Is he all right?”

“I’m sure he’s going to be fine,” Leigh assured. “But he has a bump on the head and he seems to have passed out. I’ve called an ambulance and I’m waiting for them here behind the tool shed. He’s—”

“I’m coming!”

The line cut off.

Leigh cast a nervous glance back at the entrance to the cellar. Her fingers itched to push Maura’s number on the speed dial, but she refrained. It was wretchedly early, and she knew that the detective had been on duty last night. Maura had asked to be kept informed, true, but under the circumstances Leigh refused to interrupt her friend’s sleep
and
jack up her stress level without a darned good reason. Despite every instinct in Leigh’s body screaming foul play, she couldn’t be certain that Lester had been assaulted. The man was sick as a dog and had been for days. He could have snuck out in the middle of the night, overexerted himself, passed out, and hit his head falling down.

The township police were already on their way; she would let them and the EMTs figure it out. She took a deep breath, collected what little courage she possessed, and headed back down the cellar steps.

Lester was groaning slightly as she entered. Feeling guilty at having left him, even for two minutes, Leigh hastened to his side. He had rolled over on his back and was pawing at his head with one flailing hand.

“Emma’s on her way, Lester,” she reported. “And the ambulance will be here any minute.”

His mumbling coalesced into words.

“Arch,” he muttered, his low voice filled with angst. “Who’s… nobody knows… somebody… I have to… I’ve got to get… Arch… maybe I can… don’t want you hurt… can’t be hurt… everybody loves Arch…”

Even as Leigh strained to understand, she worried at his agitation. His body rocked from side to side, and clammy sweat beaded up on his brow. His forehead felt feverish.

“Just lay still,” she ordered. “You shouldn’t be moving your head around.”

“My head!” he exclaimed suddenly, reaching for his temple with his hand again. “Damnation! What the—” he launched into a stream of curses that could only make Leigh smile. Now
that
was a healthy man’s reaction to waking up on a hard dirt floor with an aching skull.

But all too soon, the mournful mumbling began again. “I’m trying… I am, I’m trying… hang in there, Arch… I won’t… don’t worry…”

He continued with more of the same, and as Leigh continued to gently shush him, one word suddenly jumped to her attention.

“Harvey…”

“What, Lester?” she asked quickly. “What about Harvey?”

“He knows, Arch… He knows…” Lester’s hand flew up to his mouth, making his next words indecipherable. Leigh gently pulled the hand away.

“Lester,” Leigh asked, not at all certain he could hear her. “Do you know who hurt you?”

“Steal it!” his voice became suddenly clearer. For the first time his eyes opened fully and his gaze, though still unfocused, showed real fear.

“Don’t trust…” he said fiercely,
“anyone!”

***

Leigh tapped her feet nervously on the carpet of the Brown’s sitting room. One of the women in Adith and Pauline’s bedroom was snoring like a freight train, but otherwise, the house was still and quiet as death. It was a metaphor Leigh could do without.

Emma, who could generally be counted on to remain calm in a crisis, had been near hysterical when she reached Lester’s side after having run across the backyard and creek in a nightgown, robe, and slippers. She couldn’t understand how he had gotten there, since he had been in bed asleep when she retired for the night. His fever had spiked again last evening, and she had dosed him up with over the counter meds and tucked him into bed early, worried that he might be coming down with pneumonia.

Had he been sleepwalking? Was he delirious with fever? Emma had had no other explanation to offer the EMTs or the police except that he might have gone to check on the stray dog. Why he would do that in the middle of the night while sick, however, she had no clue.

Leigh had deftly managed to avoid talking to the police in front of Emma, busying herself instead with running to the Brown’s house and fetching the woman’s purse and a change of clothes so that she could ride up front in the ambulance and accompany her husband to the hospital. Having something constructive to do had helped soothe Leigh’s own panic. She had overheard the EMTs describe not one, but
two
head wounds. She had also heard that Lester was running a fever of 103, which made it entirely possible that he had passed out first, then hit his head falling down, perhaps stumbling repeatedly.

It was also possible, she thought grimly, that he had been deliberately struck and
then
fell and hit his head, or even that he had been struck twice. But how could anyone tell? The stone walls of the cellar were roughhewn, and although the floor was primarily dirt, it had plenty of natural stones embedded in it. The only loose object she had seen near Lester was his own lightweight flashlight, but that was little comfort. If he had confronted someone, that person could have conked him on the head with their own, heavier flashlight, or a shovel, or any other convenient tool—and then fled with it in hand.

Leigh stared down at the phone numbers Emma had scribbled on a piece of notepaper borrowed from one of the policemen. The residents at the personal care home could not be left alone, and Leigh had agreed to call in one of the Browns’ regular relief staffers. But the first two on the list had not been available. One was already working another job, and the other was out of town and couldn’t make it back until afternoon. The third and last name on the list was Nora.

Leigh sighed. Nora was a nursing home aide by profession and had moonlighted for the Browns for years, even before she moved in next door. But Nora’s working overtime had come to a halt after the baby was born, and this morning seemed a particularly lousy time to resume it. Every time Leigh had opened her door to put her corgi in or out last night, she had heard little Cory screaming.

“Oh, I hope you don’t have to call Nora,” Emma had said worriedly. “She’s been so overtired lately. But if the others can’t make it, you’ll have to. I don’t like to bring in strangers.”

Leigh really had no choice. Emma’s directions had been explicit, and the home was a business that needed coverage by someone officially trained in direct care, which Leigh was not.

She picked up the Brown’s landline and dialed. The phone rang interminably, until at last an answering machine picked up, interrupted almost immediately by Nora herself. “Emma?” she said with alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Leigh,” she corrected. “I’m really sorry to wake you up, but I’m afraid it’s an emergency. Emma’s on her way to the hospital with Lester, they need someone to stay at the home, and no one else is available until this afternoon. I know it’s—”

“Oh, no!” Nora exclaimed. “Of course I’ll come over. I knew Lester wasn’t right when I saw him yesterday! I told Emma he needed to slow down or he was going to make himself even sicker! Oh, my. Did his fever go up? Can’t he breathe?”

Leigh jumped in as soon as she could. Once Nora got going, the woman seemed able to speak without breathing herself.

“He got a head injury somehow,” Leigh offered simply. Whatever details Emma chose to share later, Emma could share herself. “He got out of bed with a fever and they don’t know if he passed out and fell down or what, but he was unconscious for a while, so—”

“A concussion?” Nora effused. “Oh, how awful. Emma must be frantic!”

“Well, she’s—”

“I’ll be over in three minutes,” Nora continued, her voice bouncing as if she were moving around as she talked, “Derrick’s home all day so he can watch the baby. Emma doesn’t like calling in the temps, and I don’t blame her, Pauline’s so tricky about her meds, and I swear she’s been teaching Adith how to—. Oh! Where are my… Did I not finish that load of laundry?! I thought I—”

“Nora?” Leigh broke in. “I’ll stay till you get here. Thanks.” Not meaning to be rude, but in no mood to listen to the sleep-deprived young mother’s stream of conscious narration of the dressing process, Leigh hung up. Perhaps, after taking care of a colicky baby nearly 24/7 with a reclusive husband whose helpfulness was questionable at best, spending a quiet day with three elderly people would be a relief.

She returned the phone to its cradle, then rose and walked to one of the back windows. Most of Archie’s place was out of view, thanks to the trees, but there were a few open spots visible near the tool shed, and she could see parts of the farm’s driveway. The ambulance had left a while ago, but the township police lingered still; she could see them intermittently as they wandered the grounds around the shed. As she watched, another sedan cruised down the lane. It was a unit from the county police force—most likely related to the missing persons investigation. She could only guess what the two teams of detectives would make of this latest mishap. Would the county begin to take the treasure-hunting angle seriously? Or would they focus on Lester’s fever and write the whole thing off as unrelated?

She might find out for herself soon enough. The police had made clear when she left that they would be coming over to the Brown’s house later and would question her there.

Fabulous.

Leigh stepped away from the window and plopped down on one of the high-seated chairs. Not even Pauline’s canary was fully awake yet. It startled when she sat, but then blinked at her with disinterest and stuffed its head back under its wing.

“It’s okay,” Leigh said wryly. “I get that a lot.”

Her gaze wandered to the battle scene covering the far wall, and her stomach flip-flopped. Harvey’s musings had been interesting, but she hadn’t really believed them. That is, she hadn’t really believed that a Civil War relic could bestir enough interest to cause actual… well…
mayhem.
The idea was too farfetched. Digging for gold, jewels, or cold hard cash was one thing; risking one’s life and liberty for a historical conversation piece was another.

Still.
The facts were beginning to fit together far too neatly to be ignored. She held out a reluctant hand and counted them off. One: Archie was a certified Civil War enthusiast who knew all about Theodore Carr’s history when he bought Frog Hill Farm eight years ago. Two: Somebody had been digging for something in the neighborhood for at least the five years she had lived in it. Three: Somebody had been searching for something on or around Archie’s house as far back as the 1950s. Four: The children had found a treasure map of the area that appeared to be from the 1930s, at the latest. Five: Archie and Lester were almost certainly working together to find this mysterious something when Archie disappeared.

Were they getting close?

She replayed in her mind Lester’s feverish ravings, and the memory made her feel no better.
I’m trying… I am, I’m trying… hang in there, Arch… I won’t… don’t worry…

What exactly had Lester been trying to do? Was he attempting to find the treasure himself last night, and if so, how would that help Archie? Did Lester think that his friend had been kidnapped for ransom?

Did he
know
that he had?

The thought induced another spurt of stomach acid. Surely not! Lester had recruited his entire reenacting company to scour the area for clues… would he do that if he was trying to keep things quiet and cover up the fact that he was hiding a ransom note?

Maybe.
If he thought his buds could help him either track down the culprits or find the desired object… without involving the police.

Leigh sprang up from her chair. “Lester, Lester,” she muttered miserably. “Please tell me you’re not that dense.”

Don’t trust…
His words came back to her.
Anyone!

Leigh buried her face in her hands.

The doorbell rang. She hurried toward the sound, grateful for the interruption. She swung open the door to admit Nora, who had apparently managed to find clean clothes after all.

Makeup and a hairbrush, not so much.

“I got here as quick as I could,” Nora said breathlessly. “Cory’s still asleep, thank God. He should be out for a while, after last night.” She walked straight back to the sitting room and glanced around. “Commotion didn’t wake them, huh? I’m not surprised about Pauline and Harvey, but Adith always seems to know when something’s up—even when she’s sound asleep!”