The Secret Staircase (A Wendover House Mystery Book 1) (16 page)

“Damn this leg. I wish I could help you more.”

“You are helping,” I said and meant it. “It’s great to have you here. In fact … I hate to even ask, but how long can you stay?”

“Only till Friday,” Jack said, politely closing the small door behind me. We had to dodge and dance to get by the wardrobe. “What’s in here anyway? It’s kind of smelly.”

“Taxidermy gone awry,” I said as he opened the door and took in all the shining eyes and snarling mouths.

“Ugh. Are you going to throw them out?”

“After I’ve looked them over and made sure none of them are stuffed with the family jewels—or that any of the animals is on some endangered or extinct species list that belongs in a museum.”

“Oh. You’re probably right. Your family seems….”

“Eccentric? Yes, I think they were.” I started down the stairs. “Come on, Kelvin. You don’t want to get stuck up here.”

“Maybe I’ll look through some of your books there. I bet they’re fascinating.”

I bet they were too. But I wasn’t sure I wanted Jack reading them just yet.

“Okay. But first I want to check the cave.” I knew this would distract him.

“Why?”

“I think the smugglers were back last night.” I almost slipped and named names. “Kelvin was acting strange and scratching at the basement door. He’s done that on other nights.”

I did not admit to going downstairs to investigate.

“Are you kidding?” This was rhetorical. “Are they insane? The sea was crazy violent last night.”

I wondered about their sanity too though the weather had calmed around eight. I could have explained my theory about the boat already being on the island but opted not to. Jack might want to go right down to the docks and investigate. I suspected Bryson and Everett’s boats would be long gone by now, but why tempt disaster?

“Harris called about seven last night and he said the electrician would be out as soon as the sea calmed, so I would like to check on the whisky situation. The electrician will be bringing wires in through the basement so that the historic look of the house is preserved. It would be handy if the whisky was gone before he started work. If not, I’ll have to seal the cupboard up tight and keep Mr. Benson away from the cave.”

“Let’s go look right now.”

“Are you up to more stairs?” I asked.

“I feel fine. These pain pills are great.”

I did some more thinking while we worked our way to the cave, which was blessedly empty. Even the broken winch was gone. This was a relief. I didn’t like the idea of the Sands brothers visiting my basement, which they must have done to let the cat into the house that first night. I thought about how to go about arranging things so they wouldn’t be tempted to use it again later if they had a need. The indirect approach sounded best.

“I bet Bryson is eating double donuts and coffee today,” I muttered, thinking of the labor he and Everett had put in last night.

“What?” Jack asked.

“Nothing.
I think that I would like you to meet Harris and Ben,” I said, as we worked our way back upstairs. In spite of his super pill, Jack was beginning to look tired again.

“Why?” he asked bluntly.

“I want them to know there is an outside witness when I tell them about finding the cave. I won’t mention that I saw the whisky. Just that I know the cave is there and that I am thinking of making it into a wine cellar or a bird sanctuary or something. Word will get out to the rest of the town quickly enough once they know that I know.”

Jack thumped a couple more steps into the library and pulled out a chair.

“That isn’t a bad idea.
Subtle.
This is tricky because you don’t know who is smuggling.”

I nodded.

“I’ll ask the other neighbor too. Her name is Mary—she’s actually the practical nurse for the owner of the other cottage, but he isn’t mobile.” She was also Everett’s girlfriend. This would make the chance of word getting back to him immediately almost a certainty. “We’ll call it a cocktail party. And that means I’ll need cocktails and snacks. I had better call Miss Sibley and see if she has any cheese and crackers in the store. If not, I’ll need to go to Goose Haven. Why don’t you have a rest while I phone around and make
arrangements.
”

“Okay. Confound this leg.” He sat down carefully at the desk and reached for a book. It was on eighteenth-century maritime law. I patted his shoulder and went away.

Ben was pleased with the invitation and offered to call Mary for me since there was a lot of static on my phone that morning. Since Mary and I weren’t the best of friends I agreed to the plan.

Harris sounded a bit winded when he answered the office phone, but was also pleased to be invited and I think a little relieved that he was to be included. He thoughtfully offered to bring over supplies. Since Miss Sibley was so hard of hearing and I quailed at the thought of making myself understood, I again agreed to deputize, suggesting cheese and crackers and a couple bottles of red and white wine.

A quick glance in the pantry showed me that I had an assortment of pickled things that I could use to supplement the cheese and crackers. It wouldn’t be a party for the home and garden magazines, but it would do for the time being.

“We’re all set,” I told Jack who was standing in the backyard and staring at the smudged flagstones. I guess maritime law was not that engrossing.

“Good,” he said absently. “You know, I feel like I should recognize this design. I’ve seen it somewhere.”

“Me too.
It’s one of the many things I plan on looking up once I have power and my computer.” Jack grunted. “Well, you enjoy the sun. I’m going to cut some flowers and give the parlor a dusting.”

And take a look at the books I had brought down and hide any that made my family look too kooky. I didn’t need Jack or anyone else reading them ahead of me.

My study of the books was perfunctory since I had to take a little time to shove some flowers in a vase and drag a cloth around the room. One book caught my eye because of the maze design in it. The rest seemed to be about sea trade routes and the predicted boring histories of saintly local families.

Jack came in looking for lunch before I had scanned more than a half dozen tomes.

“You know what that stonework out back reminds me of?” he asked, sounding pleased. “It’s the yellow brick road from
The Wizard of Oz
.”

I smiled, but if the book I had looked at was right, it was a Native American symbol for the Four Ages of Man. Whether this was a good symbol or a bad one—or just decorative—I couldn’t say. But it lent credence to the story about the island having belonged to the local tribe before Abercrombie moved here.

*
 
*
 
*

My guests arrived at seven. Clouds were gathering, but they remained thoughtfully distant and I thought that perhaps we were going to manage a night without rain. This sudden clearing had to infuriate the Sands brothers who had been working night after night in showers and wind.

It took only a moment to lay out a tray of nibbles and pour everyone some wine. We did a few moments of chitchat, Mary Cory even unbending enough to say welcome of Jack and ask about his leg.

After everyone had chewed a few crackers and sipped a bit of wine, I made my big announcement.

“I found something wonderful today—actually two wonderful things.” Harris looked arrested, but Ben began to grin. Mary remained stone-faced. Jack’s eyes were all over everyone. He was probably trying to pick out the smugglers.

“You found the cave!” Ben guessed.

“I did. It turns out that there is a tunnel leading from it to the basement. Of course, I don’t plan on making this fact generally known, but I thought that you all would like to see it.”

Harris managed to look both surprised and interested.

“I would certainly like to see it,” he said politely.

“It isn’t one of the wonders of the world or anything,” I warned. “But it might make a nice wine cellar or something.”

“Let’s see it at once,” Ben suggested, and so we got up and went downstairs again, even Jack, who had to be tired of making this trip.

The cave was admired for a minute or so. It looked more mysterious than it was when seen by the light of a single flashlight. I pointed out the iron ring and Ben, predictably, drew the right conclusions about its use.

Ben would have lingered but I shooed everyone upstairs. The cave was damp and getting cold.

“You said there were two things,” Ben reminded me as we settled back into the parlor and I lit the fire.

“Yes. I also found a small room off of the attic and it was full of family portraits.” I watched Harris and was not surprised to see him flush with guilt. “They were not an attractive lot and it quite depresses me that everyone sees my resemblance to them. Still, they are family and we don’t get to choose our genetic destiny.” I stood up and reached for my wine. “We can choose other things though.”

I smiled at the room but turned my gaze back to Harris. I thought of all the people I had met and couldn’t think that anyone except Harris and his parents, and perhaps a few people of that generation, actually believed the legend.

“And?” he prompted. “You’ve chosen something?”

“Yes. And I’m going to stay. I love the house. I’ve made new friends and hope to make more. And this isn’t the eighteenth century. If I get lonely for fast food or want to see a movie, I can always hop the ferry to the mainland. It isn’t like I’d be a prisoner here.”

I don’t think anyone but Harris took my meaning.

“I’m very glad,” he said sincerely.

“As am I!”
Ben said and I knew that both of them meant it, though for different reasons.

Mary added her congratulations but I don’t think she was completely sincere about her happiness at acquiring a new neighbor.

“If I can get a flight on such short notice, I will fly back on Friday with Jack and start packing up my apartment. I have to make arrangements for the sale of the newspaper, but I don’t think any of it will take long. I’ll be back before winter.
Hopefully before fall.
Harris, will you mind dealing with the electrician while I’m gone?”

“Not at all.”

I exhaled. “Good. And, though it is a long time off, I would like to invite everyone to a Christmas party. You too, Jack, if you can get away. And next time I will manage something better than pickled onions and crackers.”

And I would have my grandmother’s shotgun. Just in case.

About the Author

Melanie Jackson is the author of over 50 novels. If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author web site at
www.melaniejackson.com
.

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