Weekends Can Be Murder, page 26
Drawing herself up to her full height, she raised her chin, met his steady gaze, and replied, “I need to know the truth.”
“And you’ve heard it.” As he finished descending the stairs, he told her, “Tony bailed. Arthur’s murder broke him, and he opted out, leaving the three of us to pick up the slack. Between that and the cops dragging us away for further questioning over and over, it was a wonder any meals got served today, let alone on time.”
“I thought he was in his quarters earlier.”
“So did we. And now he’s not. We have no idea where he is, and it will be dark soon, and I don’t mind telling you, we’re getting worried.”
This made no sense. Why would the house have sent her here if there was nothing to be gained? Unless…
“Where was he the last time you saw him?” she asked.
“He was going out the front door,” Diane replied. “He looked distracted. It was nearly noon and I wanted to discuss changing our meal plans because we were feeding the police as well, but he said I would have to wait until he got back from seeing someone.”
“Did he say who he was going to meet?”
“No, and I didn’t think to ask. Not that he would have told me, necessarily,” she added. “Tony’s been rather close-mouthed ever since we got here. Something’s been bothering him. He’s been blowing up over little things, and that’s not like him.”
“What kind of little things?”
Fan and Diane exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, Will replied, “Dumb things. Things that would normally just roll off his back. Like Farley taking an extra long smoking break, or having to add a place setting when someone brings along an unexpected guest.”
“He was definitely on edge,” Fan chimed in. “Last night, Mr. Wylde was sitting beside Tony in the parlour. He’d been a mess when he came through the front door. We did our best to clean him up and make him comfortable, and instead of thanking us, he made a sarcastic remark. Tony has drilled it into us never to be impolite to guests, no matter how rude they are to us. But this time, he stood up, cussed Wylde out using language I would not repeat, then went into the drawing room. We were shocked.”
“We told the police about it when we realized he was missing,” said Will. “We’d already looked all over the house. As far as I know, they’re still searching the grounds. If anything has happened to him—” The pain in his eyes seemed genuine.
“He’ll be all right, Will,” Diane assured him. “Tony is strong.” To Selena, she added, “It’s just nerve-wracking, having to wait here, doing nothing.”
Fan narrowed her gaze. “Why are you looking for him, Ms. Watt?”
Selena considered her response for several heartbeats, debating whether to share her suspicions about him.
“I have questions, and I think he can answer them for me,” she replied at last.
“You asked me a question earlier,” said Will, “about how Farley died.”
“Yes. I was curious to know how much Tony knew about it.”
“He knew everything, but not until I’d told him. That was after Baker and I had given our statements to the police.”
“When Farley fell, you made a joke.”
His eyes widened briefly. “The cops told me there’d been a witness. That was you?” She bobbed her head in response. “Well, it wasn’t a joke,” he told her. “That was my way of letting Baker know that I’d overheard him plotting with Farley earlier.”
All at once it was raining ice in the pit of Selena’s stomach. “You—you overheard that conversation? And it was between Farley and Baker?”
“Yes. It seems Tony wasn’t the only person Farley was working for this weekend,” he said grimly. “Or maybe ever. If he was planted on us months ago, he’s taken that information with him to his grave.”
“But you and Baker were chasing him down together.”
“Farley had gone to ground. Baker was hunting him. I decided to tag along, to see what I could learn. I persuaded him that two of us could catch Farley more easily than one.”
“And when he kept repeating that he only wanted to talk to Farley…?”
“That was probably for my benefit,” Will said. “Farley saw through his act as well, and panicked. The fool must have forgotten where he was, or thought the fence was farther from the edge of the bluff than it was.” He shrugged as though to adjust the fit of his shirt. “It was too dark to see what happened. I just heard that awful scream and knew that he was dead, and that Baker was most likely going to scapegoat him and walk away clean. So I made a remark to let him know that I knew his secret. I was sure he’d come after me next. But—”
“But now you’re thinking he may have picked a different target?” Selena said. “Well, you may be right. But I’m afraid Tony Court isn’t the only one in danger. Harald Pyke is missing too.”
As these words left her lips, she realized: Court and Harald both knew this old house very well. They’d probably played hide and seek in it when they were children. Maybe Edyth Pyke could tell her where to look for them.
Selena thanked the three servers for their assistance, mumbled some further encouragement, and hurried back upstairs.
Twenty-Three
The door to the basement storage area stood ajar, and the ceiling lights were burning. Larry heard a snick behind him. He turned his head and noticed that Constable Maresh’s waist holster was unsnapped.
“Really?” Larry said reprovingly.
“There was already one gun we didn’t know about on this island. There could be others. Better safe than sorry,” came the reply.
Okay. Fine.
Larry led the way down the stairs, pausing halfway to peer along the length of the roughed-in corridor. He listened hard. Mainly, though, he was waiting for the slight breeze that would tell him he was moving in the right direction.
Nothing.
All at once, Baker pushed ahead of him, calling, “Mr. Pyke? Are you down here?”
Perfect. Drive him farther into hiding, why don’t you?
“That’s enough!” Larry snapped.
“No Pykes, just us,” Blaise called back as he and Norman emerged from an alcove and strode to the bottom of the steps. “And no Antony Court either.”
“They’re both missing?”
“I’m afraid so,” Norman replied. “We came down here to search for Court. No luck, but we did find something interesting.”
“Are there any curious seams in the walls?” Maresh asked.
Blaise made a wry face. “There’s about an acre of unmudded wallboard down here, so yeah, we have seams galore.”
“But that’s not what’s so interesting,” Norman broke in. “Come have a peek.” They followed him to the large storage area at the far end of the corridor, where he stopped and gestured broadly with his arms. To Larry, he said, “Do you see anything different from last night?”
Paint cans, extra wallboard, piles of lumber, the spool of wiring—it was all there. However…
“Someone’s moved things around,” Larry said, pointing, “to clear that section of wall. Do we know what’s on the other side?”
Blaise replied, “Based on my own construction experience, I would guess that it’s the utility area. Water heater, furnace, breaker boxes, generator, septic conduits, laundry facilities… all the stuff that needs to be tucked away out of sight. There ought to be some interior access to it, but I’ve checked for door handles and finger recesses, and there doesn’t seem to be any way through that barrier.”
“A utility area sounds like a good place to play hide and seek, wouldn’t you say?” Baker remarked.
Larry took several steps forward and closed his eyes. A moment later he felt the feathery touch of a breeze against the back of his neck.
Show me the entrance, house. Let us in.
“Now what’s he doing?” Baker said impatiently.
“Sssh,” said Maresh.
“Oh, right—the spirits.”
The seam beside a piece of wallboard began to widen, becoming a dark line and then a trapezoid shape as the revealed door swung slowly away from them. Larry spun and shoved Baker’s shoulder just as the other man was opening his mouth to speak. “Call out his name and I’ll deck you. Understand?” he hissed.
Then, gesturing to the others to be as quiet as possible, Larry led the way through the opening.
* * *
Selena paused to exchange smiles with the constable standing outside Edyth Pyke’s room.
“Is Mrs. Pyke under arrest?” she asked pleasantly.
“No, Ms. Watt. It’s protective custody. One son is dead and the other is missing. We need to keep her safe.”
“In other words, I’m grounded,” Edyth’s voice grumped from the other side of the door.
“In that case,” said Selena, “as long as she agrees to it, I would like to have a conversation with her, face to face.”
“A conversation?” He sounded skeptical. “That request will have to go through Sergeant Brassard, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid, Constable Johnson,” came Warfield’s voice from behind her. “She’s with me. Call it in and have her cleared to enter. I’ll wait out here with you, if you like.”
Now Johnson was looking skeptical as well. Nonetheless, he complied, and less than a minute later, Selena was sitting on a chair in Edyth’s room, waving away her offer of a plate of store-bought cookies.
“I was raised to be always hospitable,” the older woman said, setting the plate down on the nightstand beside them, “no matter how limited my resources might be. But you’re not here to socialize, are you, my dear? What is it exactly that you want from me?”
Selena got right to the point. “Two men are missing. One of them is Harald. The other is Antony Court. We know that they both spent time here when they were children, and that they often played in the network of hidden passages that had been built into the old house.” She leaned forward and said in a low, taut voice, “Mrs. Pyke, everyone has been searching for them, and no one has been able to find them. I was hoping you could tell me whether there was some favourite corner where they used to hide from the adults. Where should we be looking?”
Edyth sat back with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Where they were expressly forbidden to go. When my father-in-law modernized the house, years ago, a portion of the downstairs was set aside for such things as a central furnace, a hot water reservoir, and so on. It was a dangerous place for children, and so we made it off-limits to them. Wasted our breath, of course. Harald and Arthur were fascinated by large machines, and where Arthur went, that cursed boy went too. I always knew when they’d stolen away to the furnace room. They came back covered with coal dust. Locate that room. If he’s hiding, that is where Harald will be. I don’t know about Antony Court, but I wish you luck in finding him.”
* * *
It felt strange to be skulking around the innards of Rafferty House. The utility room in the basement had overhead lighting, but it was of the gooseneck, wrap-around-a-roof-beam variety, creating islands of illumination in the dark rather than a diffused glow to fill a space. This particular space was huge and canyon-like, with large silhouettes rising steeply to left and right, looming over a die-straight central corridor. Water heaters, generators, furnaces—there were multiples of everything, it seemed, including three shapes that gave Larry pause.
Fuel tanks. Propane, most likely.
“Do you hear that?” Norman whispered tensely.
Larry stopped and listened. Someone was moaning faintly, ahead and to the right.
They followed the sound and discovered Tony Court, bound and gagged and lying on his side on the cement floor, between two of the propane tanks. Larry removed the gag. Immediately, Court was gasping out words of warning: “Harald is here. Be careful. He’s snapped. He killed Arthur. I think he intends to burn the house down with all of us inside it.”
Of course. Selena had been right earlier about the universe sending him here. She’d just been mistaken about the reason for it.
Larry glanced up at Baker, who stood staring goggle-eyed over his shoulder. “Now you can call out his name.”
“And the rest of you can leave,” Maresh said grimly. “Get Mr. Court safely outside. Baker and I can take things from here.”
As Blaise and Norman set to work removing Court’s bonds, Larry rose to his full height and declared, “If Harald’s setting a fire, you’re going to need my help.” When Maresh hesitated, he added impatiently, “I’m not a civilian, I’m a firefighter, dammit! This is my area of expertise. Now, get on the horn and tell Brassard she needs to evacuate the house at once.”
Respect filling his eyes, Maresh reached for his radio.
“Court is able to walk,” Norman reported. “We’ll take him back the way we came. Good hunting, Mr. Holmes. And good luck.”
* * *
“She said to look for a furnace room in the basement,” Selena told Warfield as they hurried along the corridor to the foyer. “Apparently, Harald, Arthur, and Court used to sneak away and hide there when they were children.”
Warfield pursed and unpursed his lips. “We found an unfinished section down there earlier, but it’s all bedrooms, and there’s only one door in or out, from the outside of the house. That still leaves a lot of basement unaccounted for, though.”
“Did you notice any other exterior doors while you were appraising the building?”
Before he could answer, Brassard rushed out of her office and blew a shrill blast on a whistle. Within seconds, she was ringed by police and persons of interest, come to investigate the noise.
“I apologize for the disturbance,” she said, “but this is an emergency and I need your full attention and cooperation. There may be a fire in the basement of this house. I am ordering an immediate evacuation of the premises. Gladden and Coyne, you will secure our case materials. The rest of the unit will ensure that all occupants leave safely and will shepherd them to one of two staging areas, at the front and back of the building. Rivas and Johnson, clear the upstairs. Varney, Berman, and Hashi, clear the downstairs. If it turns out to be a false alarm, we will have had a fire drill. On my signal!” So saying, she blew the whistle a second time.
Struck by a sudden, chilling thought, Selena spun to face Warfield. “The kitchen is in the basement. Will and Fan and Diane are down there. I have to warn them.”
“No, you don’t,” Brassard cut in, scowling. “You will exit this house through that front door and wait by the boat dock. A constable will go to the kitchen and escort your three friends to safety.”
“I’m Lois Drake’s bodyguard,” Warfield informed her. “She’s asleep upstairs and may not hear a knock at her door.”
“Then you’d better go bring her down here, now,” said Brassard.
Feeling the sergeant’s watchful gaze like a targeting laser on the back of her head, Selena turned and headed for the front entrance. As she reached the foot of the staircase, Warfield came up beside her, leaned over, and murmured, “I’ll bet it’s under the south wing of the house, and there’s an exterior door of some kind waiting to be found.”
“Good idea,” she murmured back. Then she walked out onto the veranda.
With a glance over her shoulder to make sure Brassard was looking elsewhere, Selena raced down the front steps and across the lawn, then swung herself breathlessly around the corner of the building. A moment later, she risked a peek, just to make sure no one had noticed her.
She’d lucked out. Not many people were using the front door. She saw a constable chivvying the Wyldes along the path to the dock, and another one escorting Mrs. Pyke, and that was all. Everyone else was probably being sent out the dining room doors to the safety fence near the bluff. Good. If anyone caught her, she would say she was on her way to join them.
The south wall of the house was a disappointment. A solid expanse of wooden cladding, it was unbroken by even a single door or window. However, the waning light was showing her something on the grass, tucked up against the side of the building. As she got closer, she realized what it was.
Two square wrought iron plates, butting up neatly against each other. A secret elevator. And her with no way to summon it.
Damn!
Sidling along the wall, she peered around the east corner of the building again. Two more had joined the group on the dock. It was hard to make out facial features at this distance, but when the man turned and stared directly at her, she recognized them as Warfield and Lois. Selena counted five guests, two constables wearing peaked caps, and no Larry. No Baker, either. That could be good or bad. Fingers crossed, she walked around to the back of the house, where a much larger group was milling around, just beyond the garden.
“Selena! There you are!” Liz rushed over and gave her a huge hug.
Meanwhile, Selena’s gaze roamed over the crowd. It picked out Blaise, Court, and Norman, but still no Larry, no Baker, no Harald. Like a cloak made of snow, dread slowly draped itself over her shoulders.
As though reading her mind, Liz said, “He must be on the dock, luv.”
“Are they on the dock?” Norman chimed in. When Selena shook her head no, his face fell. “Shit! The constable ordered Blaise and me to bring Court out of the basement. Larry and Baker stayed down there with him to catch Harald, hopefully before he could start the fire.”
“The fire? Harald is the one responsible for that?” Liz exclaimed indignantly.
By then Hugh had wandered over, his features creased with concern. “So, there are four men still in the basement—”
“Trapped in the basement,” Blaise corrected him. “We used a secret door to enter that room, and used it again to get Court out, and then the damn house sealed it behind us and wouldn’t let us back in.”
“Actually, there is another entrance. There’s an elevator,” said Selena, “like the one in the kitchen, but on the south side of the building. Problem is, it operates using a remote control, and we don’t have one.”
“Sure, you do,” Court said. He reached out and handed her a black box with four coloured buttons on it. “Go get them out of there.”
