5 Murder by Syllabub (22 page)

The front door closed, a car engine started, gravel crunched and she was gone.

We returned to the gathering room, silent. I was absorbed in not very pleasant thoughts. Aunt Mary collected the remaining dinner dishes and carried them to the sink. Elizabeth collapsed into her chair, picked up a napkin and started rolling and unrolling it. Aunt Mary sighed, returned to her chair and looked at me. I nodded. It wasn’t difficult to guess what her next question would be.

She leaned forward a little so that she faced Elizabeth. “Okay. Suppose you tell me, who is Louis?”

“I’ll tell you.” Cora Lee stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on her cane. Her eyes looked tired. The lines around her mouth were etched deep and her makeup was mussed. Clearly, she was not in a good mood. “He’s Mildred’s no-good thieving husband.”

I
woke with a start. What was that? I blinked, took a deep breath and tried to adjust to the darkness. I could just make out the bed hangings, canopy and feather quilt. What had woken me so abruptly? I listened. Nothing. Something had jerked me awake. I’d been dreaming. Was that it? A dream? I looked for the bedside clock. Four thirty.

I’d talked to Dan until after midnight and had tossed and turned for a while after that, so
I hadn’t been asleep very long. It must have been a dream. I pushed myself down in the bed and let my head fall back on the pillow. This whole thing was getting to be a bit much. Prowlers, muggers, murderers. We’d come east to help Aunt Mary’s friend, thinking we’d be here a few uneventful days. I hadn’t bargained on this.

There it was again. What was it? A banging noise. A door? And that creak, that was the stairs right outside my room. Someone was on the stairs. A dog barked. Just one bark. It sounded as if the dog was downstairs. Petal? Was Elizabeth going down to let her out? Or was the prowler back
?

This time I threw the covers aside and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Slippers. Where were they? Light. I needed light. The bedside lamp was beside the clock radio. The lighted dial did nothing to help me find the knob but finally it turned. The light almost blinded me. A blink or so later I thrust my feet into the slippers while I struggled into my robe. Something was going on downstairs and I’d better get down there fast. Wait. I’d be an idiot if I charged downstairs without a weapon of some sort. Only, I didn’t have one. My cellphone was beside the bed. I slipped
it into the pocket of my robe but all it would do is allow me to call for help. What else could I use? There wasn’t one thing. Muttering under my breath that this was a fool’s errand, I walked over to the door and carefully pushed it open. Aunt Mary’s door was ajar. So was Elizabeth’s. Both rooms were dark and the hallway was empty. I stepped into it, pulling my door not quite shut behind me. A small sliver of light showed, but it didn’t do much to chase away the shadows. I crept closer to the stairs. I could just make out a glow. Someone had turned on a light downstairs, something burglars seldom did. I started down the stairs, taking only a few at a time, stopping to listen, taking a couple more. The light came from the gathering room. Maybe it was Elizabeth waiting for Petal to come back in. I pushed the door from the hallway open a little and looked around. It was Elizabeth all right, Aunt Mary right behind her. Only, they weren’t waiting for Petal. The door leading to the cellar stairs was wide open and Elizabeth stood in front of it, fireplace poker raised. Aunt Mary held the coalscuttle. They were both ready to strike.

“What are you doing?” The words came out almost before I realized I’d said them.

Elizabeth whirled around, poker over her head, poised to swing. “Oh, my God. You gave me such a scare. I almost hit you. What are you doing down here?”

“I heard noises. What’s the matter? I thought I heard a dog bark.” I looked around the room, but no dog appeared. “Where’s Petal?” She
had to be here. The French doors were securely locked.

“She went downstairs. I’m worried. She gave that one bark and ran through the door. She hasn’t come back.”

Aunt Mary lowered the coalscuttle. “Oh, I’m so glad it’s you. I heard Elizabeth and came down to see what was wrong. The door was open.”

I fumbled in my pocket for my phone. “Is someone down there?”

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth lowered her poker and leaned on it. “I woke up because the dog started to growl. She jumped off the bed and went into the hall. I followed her, not knowing what to think. I didn’t hear anything so I thought maybe she wanted out.” She paused and gestured toward the open cellar door. “When she came in here, I followed and turned on that light.” She motioned toward the lamp on a table just inside the door. “The door to the cellar was open and Petal stood in front of it, growling.”

Glancing once more at
the open door, Elizabeth pulled a chair away from the table and almost fell into it. “Lord, I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. Then that damn dog gave a bark and disappeared through the doorway. I yelled and grabbed the poker. Then Mary came in and wanted to know what was wrong. She grabbed the coalscuttle. We thought we’d better just shut up and wait to see what would happen. Only, nothing did. Then you came in.”

“You didn’t hear anything more?”

“I didn’t hear anything in the first place. Just the dog.”

“The door was open.”

Elizabeth nodded. So did Aunt Mary. I stared at the door, almost as if I expected someone or something to appear at any moment. I was about to say more when we heard a loud throat-clearing behind us. Aunt Mary’s knees buckled, she gave a gasp and grabbed the table for support. I reached for her and we both did an about-face to confront the intruder.

It was Cora Lee.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing down here in the middle of the night?”

Aunt Mary sank into a chair beside Elizabeth.
“You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Cora Lee advanced into the room,
gearing up for more complaining, then noticed the cellar door. “Why is that door open?”

“Someone’s down there.” Elizabeth’s voice cracked a little, but she still held onto her poker.

“Not again.” All the color drained from Cora Lee’s face and she leaned even more heavily on her cane. She’d admitted to seeing the doctor, but just a routine visit. I didn’t think so. She hadn’t mentioned an attorney, but she sure hadn’t been shopping, as she’d claimed. The circles under her eyes proclaimed she hadn’t slept much since she’d gone to bed, either.

“Again.” I pulled the cellphone out of my pocket and swiped the screen.

“What are you doing?” Elizabeth demanded. “Don’t call the police.”

“Call Noah
,” Cora Lee said. Arriving at the table, she, too, fell into a chair.

“No. Don’t call him either
,” Elizabeth ordered. “We’re going down there to find out who’s been coming in and out of my house.” Elizabeth pushed back her chair and got a firm grip on the poker. “We’re going to find out what happened to my dog, too.” She started toward the cellar door. “Are you coming?”

“Petal’s down there?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“I’m not going down there armed only with this stupid coalscuttle.” Aunt Mary hurried over to the wooden knife block. She pulled out a long thin knife and nodded. “Just the thing.”

“You’d actually stick someone with that?” Cora Lee seemed torn between admiration and disbelief.

“I don’t know, but it sure should give them pause.” She tested the blade with her finger and nodded. “It would me.”

I looked at the knife block, thought about the meat cleaver and discarded the idea. I’d stick with the cellphone and hope I had reception down there.

“When you’re ready.” Elizabeth looked us over, shook her head slightly and started a slow, steady creep toward the open cellar door, poker out in front. Cora Lee crept right behind her, lifting her cane every few feet as if to make sure she could swing it if needed. Aunt Mary followed, knife out if front. This was ludicrous. Or it would
have been if it weren’t for the memory of Monty, lying dead in a pool of his own vomit. And Mildred, bloody in front of the barn. Someone wanted something in Smithwood, and they apparently didn’t care what they had to do to get it. Going down there was dangerous, foolhardy, but I couldn’t think of any way to stop them. I hitched my bathrobe up onto my shoulders, clutched my cellphone tighter and went through the cellar doorway.

It was dark in the cellar. I could barely make out Cora Lee halfway down the stairs. Aunt Mary was close behind her. I couldn’t see Elizabeth. Why, oh why, hadn’t I thought to bring Aunt Mary’s flashlight? “Turn on the light.”

Cora Lee was hanging onto the stair rail and making slow progress.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” There was no doubt in Aunt Mary’s voice.

Nor in mine. “If anyone’s still down here, he knows we are, too. I have no desire to be jumped in the dark.” I felt my way down another step and suddenly the lights came on. I stopped to let my eyes adjust. There was no one in sight. The pile of crates stood silently beside the staircase, with no evidence
that one had been positioned to fall on us. Only, the stepstool was gone. There was no time to wonder about it now. I went down another couple steps. Cora Lee had reached the floor and was looking around. Aunt Mary stood on the bottom step, her hand holding the knife by her side. Where was Elizabeth? Keeping an eye on the crates, I descended the rest of the staircase.

“There’s nobody here.” Aunt Mary sounded almost disappointed.

“There doesn’t seem to be,” I said. “Where’s Elizabeth? I can’t see her anywhere.” I looked around but she’d disappeared.

“Where’s Petal?” Cora Lee pulled her flimsy robe a little closer around her and started forward across the brick floor.

The heels of her little satin mules caught on the uneven bricks. “For God’s sake, be careful,” Aunt Mary said. “You’re going to trip and break your neck in those things.”

Cora Lee turned and smiled. “Southern women learn how to maneuver in heels at a very early age. It’s part of the culture. Like never having a bad hair day or mushy makeup.” She immediately tripped and barely caught herself. “Damnation.”

I smothered a laugh.

“Where are you?” Elizabeth called to us, “Hurry up. You aren’t going to believe this. I’ve found
… Petal. Stop that.”

I
took my eyes off the floor and Cora Lee’s mules to stare straight ahead at what yesterday had been the end of the cellar. The cupboard that had contained nothing stood open and so did the back of it, revealing an open doorway.

Elizabeth stood in the opening, barely
discernible, beckoning us to hurry. “This is how our prowler has been getting in and out. The back of this cupboard pulls away from the wall and just look at what’s behind it.”

We hurried forward, following Elizabeth into another large room. A long trestle table, thick with dust, sat in the middle. A fireplace very like the one in the Payton Randolph house and in Hattie’s cottage was on the opposite wall. It contained nothing but ashes, cold and gray with age. The window was so dirt
-encrusted there was no way to see what it opened onto. Even in the dimness of the room, it was evident that the door beside it had been opened recently. Marks on the dirt floor, hinges free of inhibiting dirt and a latch that was freshly oiled. This was how the cellar ghost came and went.

For a while nobody
spoke. Aunt Mary was in the middle of the room, slowly turning round. Elizabeth didn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off the fireplace. Cora Lee walked over to the rickety plank table that stood on the dirt floor in the middle of the room. She stared at it then put out one finger, as if to see how sturdy it was. She got as far as the surface before she jerked it back.

“Ugh. There’s two hundred years
worth of dead bugs on that thing.”

“As well as dirt.” Aunt Mary walked over to join her. “I don’t think there’s a scrub brush in existence that could clean that.” She stared down at the table as if trying to identify its original color but was distracted by
a scratching sound. “Petal, what are you doing?”

The little dog was under the table, scratching at the earth while making growling, whining noises interspersed with an occasional sharp bark.

“What’s she doing?” Cora Lee moved back in distaste. She brushed at the folds of her thin dressing gown, holding it closer around her.

Elizabeth glanced at them and then dropped her gaze down to the little dog. “There must be a bone of some kind buried down there. I’m amazed she can smell it after all these years.”

“I thought dogs had a wonderful sense of smell.” Cora Lee moved one step closer, shuddered and backed away again.

“She’s a sight hound.”

I didn’t think that cleared things up very much, but I wasn’t too interested in Petal’s pursuit of ancient bones. Instead, I moved over to the only door.

“Where does this lead?”

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth joined me. “Cora Lee? Do you know?”

“This room is the old kitchen, so we’re right under the passageway that leads from the main house to the east house.”

Aunt Mary looked back at the doorway we had just come through, then at the cold fireplace. There was a little awe in her voice. “The old kitchen. That cupboard’s back opens up onto the old kitchen? Oh, so the cook didn’t have to go outside, around the side of the house, enter through that doorway over by Elizabeth’s house and then go back outside carrying whatever they needed back here?” She turned to peer once more through the secret doorway. “Why? All the secrecy, I mean. Why not have a regular door?”

Cora Lee left the table to stand beside Mary. She looked back through the opening into the brightness of the cellar. “Because it was the slaves who did all the work down here and they weren’t given free access to the foodstuffs stored in the cellar. That’s where the wines were kept, where flour and corn meal were stored, where all of the apples, potatoes, barrels of salted pork and hams were kept. Lots of things. The colonists weren’t dumb. They knew if they left all of the foodstuffs in easy reach of the slaves,
they would rapidly disappear. Slaves didn’t have ham or wine, or much of anything, so expecting them to resist helping themselves to a few apples wasn’t realistic. The cellar would be kept locked, and when new supplies were needed, the master or mistress would open it and watch carefully how much was taken and log it in the housekeeping book. I’d bet dollars to donuts the first Smithwoods had no idea that cupboard opening existed. The slaves who knew about it, and used it, would be very careful to make sure they didn’t take much, or too often. If the family discovered anything missing, they probably blamed it on mice.”