Murder of a Hermit, page 4
Firearm or not, Nate was forced to proceed slowly, because the lightbulb offered him little assistance beyond the first few steps. The lower portion of the stairway was cast in heavy shadows, and the remainder of the cellar was impenetrably dark.
‘There are eleven steps,’ Hope told him. ‘You’re on the fifth one now. At the bottom of the stairs on the left side is a wicker basket. There should be several flashlights in it.’
He nodded.
‘The batteries might be dead,’ Summer said.
Hope frowned at her. ‘Surely not all of them.’
‘How about getting some candles from the boutique?’ Summer suggested. ‘Megan could—’
‘What’s happening?’ Megan called from the cellar door, evidently catching the mention of her name. ‘What do you need me to do?’
Nate gave a sharp cough in a command for silence.
With an indignant harrumph, Summer sat down on the nearest step. ‘Bossy,’ she muttered. ‘I was just trying to help.’
‘Nate knows that,’ Hope began in a consolatory whisper. ‘He—’
Dylan turned to her. ‘What will it take to keep you quiet?’
His voice was low, and he was standing directly in front of her, so only Hope heard him. She felt a matching flash of indignation, but it was replaced a moment later by a flutter in her throat as Dylan leaned close to her.
‘If I kiss you,’ he said, ‘will that work?’
Hope looked at him. In the dim light, Dylan’s eyes were indigo. There was a yellow spark of fire in them, too. She didn’t know if it was a reflection from the lightbulb – or a mischievous glint.
‘It depends,’ she answered with a mischievous spark of her own.
‘On what?’
‘On how good the kiss is.’
Dylan didn’t blink. ‘I accept the challenge.’
Whether he would have followed through right then and there, Hope was left to guess, because they were interrupted by a flashlight clicking on at the base of the stairway. Thankfully, Summer’s concern had been needless; the batteries weren’t dead. In conjunction with the firearm, the flashlight circled slowly around the interior of the cellar. From her position on the steps, Hope couldn’t see far in any direction, but to her relief, the main portion of the floor appeared to be dry. The foundation of their brownstone wasn’t leaking, at least not to the same extent as the Larsons’.
‘All clear,’ Nate announced after a minute. The flashlight moved to a relaxed position, and the firearm returned to its holster. ‘We’re alone in here.’
Summer rose from her seat and proceeded down the stairs. ‘Of course we’re alone in here. If you hadn’t shushed me like an unruly child, I could have told you that almost immediately after we entered.’
‘You could have?’ Nate asked, sounding both surprised and doubtful at her claim.
‘Yes,’ Summer said. ‘It’s the smell.’
Following her down the steps, Dylan echoed Nate’s skepticism. ‘The smell?’
‘The smell,’ she repeated decisively.
In unison, the two men took an audible sniff.
‘I smell nothing,’ Nate said.
It was Summer’s turn to express incredulity. ‘I find that difficult to believe. Surely you smell something. The packed dirt beneath your feet and the earthen walls at your sides. The dust and must that come with the temperature variations of the seasons. Even the staleness of the still air. They all have an odor.’
The men sniffed again, more thoughtfully this time.
‘While we’re on the subject,’ Summer said to Hope, who was the last to descend, ‘I don’t smell any moisture. With luck, that means we won’t have to suffer through the same repairs as Miranda and Paul.’
As fate – or irony – would have it, the construction crew chose that moment to start up the generator to pump out the water next door. The ground trembled briefly, followed by a deep, continuous rumble. Mercifully, down in the cellar, the sound was more akin to distant rolling thunder than the migraine-inducing pounding of a jackhammer.
Nate’s voice rose to accommodate the addition of the noise. ‘I didn’t see any sign of seepage when I was looking around. Even so, I would recommend that you have a qualified professional come in to conduct a thorough inspection of the place. In my experience, it’s always better to get ahead of home repairs when they’re comparatively small and easy to fix than to wait until they become enormous projects like what’s happening to your neighbors.’
‘That’s probably true,’ Summer acknowledged.
‘I did see this, however,’ Nate continued. He held a flat, rectangular object up to the beam of his flashlight.
They all looked at it. It was another piece of olive-green waxed canvas, slightly larger than the one Hope had discovered on the steps. By all appearances, it was also from the Hermit’s cloak.
‘Where did you find it?’ Hope asked.
‘Over there.’ Nate pointed toward the far end of the cellar. ‘Next to the potato-coal chute. Based on its ragged border, it most likely got caught on a rough edge of either the chute or the outside door and tore off.’
Taking a flashlight from the wicker basket, Dylan headed in the direction of the chute and the door.
Remaining where he was, Nate lifted the piece of canvas to his nose. ‘It doesn’t have much of a smell. Just a faint damp-fabric odor.’ He turned to Hope. ‘What does your piece smell like?’
‘The same as yours. Damp fabric.’
Nate’s brow furrowed at Summer. ‘I don’t understand. How could you know from the barely detectible scent of a scrap of damp canvas that we were alone in here?’
Summer shook her head. ‘It wasn’t the scent of the canvas. It was the opposite. There wasn’t enough of a scent.’
The furrow deepened.
‘You have a smell…’ she began to explain.
Nate looked taken aback.
Summer half suppressed a laugh. ‘It isn’t only you. It’s everybody. We all have a smell; some more pronounced than others. For what it’s worth, your smell isn’t bad. On the contrary, you smell quite nice. Your cologne has a distinct sandalwood base.’
‘It-it does?’
‘Yes. In comparison, Dylan’s scent is lighter. My guess is that he uses an aftershave balm or lotion with a eucalyptus top note. That makes sense, considering he’s a doctor. He might have patients with fragrance sensitivities.’
Nate glanced at Dylan for his reaction, but Dylan – who was examining the area around the chute and was thereby closer to the noise from the generator outside – didn’t appear to have heard the sandalwood and eucalyptus remarks.
‘As soon as I stepped on to the cellar stairs,’ Summer continued, ‘I could tell who was around me. There was the sandalwood from you. The eucalyptus from Dylan. And a lingering hint of damask rose from Megan up in the study. But that was it. There was nothing more, aside from – as I mentioned before – the natural odors of the surrounding earth and air. If someone else had been down here with us, I would have noticed right away. They didn’t need to speak or make a noise by moving around. Their soap, or shampoo, or laundry detergent would have given them away.’
With his brow still furrowed, Nate was silent for several long seconds. ‘What about Hope?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I don’t notice Hope’s scent,’ Summer told him. ‘I don’t notice Gram’s, either. Growing up together and living in the same house for such a long time, it’s simply become part of the background. I’m so familiar with it, I’ll be able to identify both of them by smell in the next life, even when Gram returns as a raptor and Hope as a reptile.’
‘I object!’ Hope protested with a laugh. ‘Why does Gram get to come back as a bird of prey while I’m stuck as a reptile?’
Summer grinned. ‘How about a king cobra or a Komodo dragon? Both are venomous reptiles.’
‘Being venomous would be pretty cool,’ Hope acceded.
‘Definitely. And don’t you think that Gram would make an excellent bird of prey?’
‘Without question. She—’
‘I’ve always imagined coming back as a penguin on the outer Falkland Islands,’ Nate interjected contemplatively.
Hope and Summer exchanged an amused glance. It wasn’t unusual for some of their clients – particularly during a more expansive palm or Tarot reading – to share their varied beliefs regarding a possible next life. But it was the first time that either of them had heard anyone express a desire to return as a penguin. Large African cats were occasionally mentioned, along with oceanic dolphins and whales. The most common preference, of course, was for a gleaming heaven surrounded by loved ones, with the accompaniment of angel wings.
‘If you come back as a penguin,’ Dylan remarked drolly to Nate, ‘then Summer and her super sniffer will be able to identify you in the next life, too. There is no way to conceal the smell – or, more accurately, stench – of a raw fish and squid diet.’
Nate laughed.
‘And, no,’ Dylan continued, leaning against the side of the potato-coal chute, ‘just because I use a shower gel courtesy of the hotel that contains essence of eucalyptus does not mean that I want to be reincarnated as a koala.’
Nate laughed harder. Hope couldn’t help smiling, as well. She also noted that Dylan’s hearing was a lot better than he tended to let on.
Unlike the others, Summer was not entertained, perhaps due to the reference to her super sniffer. ‘Reincarnation is earned,’ she said tetchily. ‘At this point, Dylan, I doubt that you merit anything more than earthworm status.’
He responded with a shrug. ‘That may be correct, but you’ll never know for certain, because if I end up as a lowly earthworm, you won’t be able to smell me.’
Summer scowled and started to say something about squashing a worm on the sidewalk with the heel of her boot, but Nate was quick to interrupt.
‘As interesting as this discussion on the afterlife has become—’
There was a little chortle from Dylan.
‘—my earlier question was either misspoken or misinterpreted,’ Nate went on. ‘I meant to ask whether Hope could also smell that we were alone down here in the cellar?’
Hope shook her head. ‘No. I’m not blessed with Summer’s olfactory gift. My nose only goes so far as to differentiate between peonies and hyacinths in the garden, and rosemary and basil in the kitchen. But if you give that basil to Summer, she can tell you with a single sniff the variety, country of origin, and length of time since harvest.’
‘Truly?’ Nate said.
‘Truly,’ Hope confirmed. ‘That’s why Summer is in charge of the boutique’s herbs and teas. If they were left to my care, our customers would be sadly limited to bulk chamomile and hibiscus.’
Nate turned to Summer. ‘That’s an impressive talent you have. I’m not trying to steal you away from your shop, but if you’re ever interested in branching out, the police department could find good use for your skills.’
Even in the dim light, a pair of pink spots was visible on Summer’s cheeks. ‘That’s kind of you to say,’ she replied softly.
‘The morgue could probably also use a super sniffer,’ Dylan commented in a low, wry tone.
Thankfully, Summer’s ears were not nearly as proficient as her nose, so she didn’t hear him. Hope did, however, and she shot Dylan a sharp look.
He chortled once more, then said in a louder voice, ‘Considering what we’ve learned today, Nate, I would advise you to keep your consumption of such pungent foodstuffs as garlic and onions to a minimum on any future dinner dates.’
Nate grinned. ‘A sage recommendation – no pun intended.’
The spots on Summer’s cheeks grew larger. ‘You can eat whatever you like when we’re together. There’s no need to worry about…’ She broke off, embarrassed.
Hope’s sharp look toward Dylan repeated itself.
He feigned innocence. ‘I was merely pointing out the obvious. No one wants a romantic evening to go awry because of too many leeks in the lamb stew.’
The sharp look became a roll of the eyes. ‘You’ve had a lot of romantic evenings with lamb stew?’
‘I make an outstanding lamb stew,’ Dylan informed her. ‘When you’ve had the pleasure of tasting it, you can apologize to me for your skepticism with a kiss. You do owe me a kiss, after all.’
‘I do not owe you a kiss.’
‘Yes, you do. I distinctly recall accepting your challenge on the cellar stairs a short while ago. Don’t pretend that you don’t remember. Are you trying to welch?’
Hope couldn’t decide whether to laugh or throw up her hands in exasperation. The man was incorrigible.
A smile tugged at the corner of Dylan’s mouth. ‘So then we’re in agreement? You owe me a kiss.’ His expression grew suddenly serious. ‘Is it just me, or does anyone else smell smoke?’
FIVE
Regardless of whether Dylan was in error about – or, most likely, embellishing – the quality of his lamb stew, he was certainly not wrong about the smoke. The moment that he mentioned it, Hope caught the smell also and immediately felt the instinctive urge to flee upstairs to safety. But she made it only half a step in the direction of the stairway before she realized that there was no fire in the cellar. In the dim lighting, any spark or flame would have been instantly visible, and there wasn’t the slightest hint of a fiery glow around them. Furthermore, aside from the wicker basket with the flashlights and a couple of old wooden crates, there was nothing in the cellar that could even burn. There was plenty that could burn upstairs, however.
The same alarming thought must have occurred to Summer, because she gave a panicked cry. ‘Smoke means fire! The study!’
As Summer started to dash toward the stairway, Nate reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.
‘But Megan is up there!’ she protested, struggling to free herself. ‘With her leg in the cast, she can’t move quickly!’
Nate held her firm. ‘Megan’s not in danger. There is no fire in the study – or anywhere else in your house.’
Both his expression and his tone had the calm assurance of competent law enforcement, and Summer stopped trying to wrest her arm away. Her expression was less assured, however. ‘If it isn’t in the house, then where…’
‘It’s outdoors,’ Dylan answered. ‘See for yourself.’
They all turned in the direction that he indicated. Dylan and Nate were correct. The smoke was coming from outside the brownstone, not inside. It was a thin, lead-colored fog, seeping through the edges of the metal door and drifting down the rusty potato-coal chute like a wispy cloud being blown on a spring wind. As the smoke crept closer to them, it grew increasingly caustic.
Summer wrinkled her nose at the acrid aroma. ‘How could there be a fire outside? Everything is damp from the drizzle and—’
‘The generator,’ Hope interjected, suddenly noticing that they no longer needed to raise their voices to be heard over the rumbling noise. ‘When did it stop running?’
‘I was wondering that also,’ Nate said. ‘It might have short-circuited, which would explain the smoke and the burning smell.’
A flurry of shouts could be heard outside. The words were too muddled to understand, but it was clear from their volume and tenor that all was not well.
Releasing his hold on Summer, it was Nate’s turn to head toward the stairs. ‘I had better go out there and see what’s happening. Dylan, you should probably have a look, too, just in case someone’s been injured.’
Dylan nodded and was beginning to follow him, when Megan called down from the cellar door.
‘Hope? Summer? Can you come back up? There’s a problem.’
Although he continued to climb the steps, Nate’s pace slowed, as though he was considering what Megan had said.
‘Hope?’ she called again after a moment. ‘Summer? I think you should hurry. Your help is needed.’
Nate didn’t increase his speed. Instead, he glanced down at the sisters, who had moved swiftly to the base of the stairway. There was a look of distinct annoyance on his face.
‘There’s a problem,’ he grumbled. ‘But you don’t ask for help from the detective or the doctor.’
‘Of course not,’ Dylan responded with undisguised sarcasm. ‘Why would anyone want the assistance of a decorated police officer and a board-certified physician when they can have the consummate wisdom of a fortune teller and a tea lady?’
Nate gave an amused snort.
Hope glared at the back of Dylan’s head, while Summer glared at the back of Nate’s. Several choice words bubbled on both their tongues, but they were interrupted by Megan’s increasingly urgent entreaty.
‘Hope!’ she exclaimed. ‘You have to get up here! It’s bordering on an emergency!’
The decorated police officer and the board-certified physician still didn’t rush.
‘There is no such thing as bordering on,’ Nate remarked sourly. ‘Either it’s an emergency or it’s not.’
‘And if they don’t know the difference,’ Dylan said, ‘they should spend a couple of hours at a hospital or a police station. Then they’ll see what real emergencies are.’
‘You’ve got that right,’ Nate agreed.
Megan must have caught some portion of their conversation, because she commented crisply, ‘I don’t know what you boys are blathering about, but it would be lovely if you could manage to move faster than a pair of arthritic turtles, so that Hope and Summer can get up the stairs behind you.’ Before anyone was able to answer, she continued, ‘Hope, I’m going outside. Come quickly!’
The sound of Megan’s crutches could be heard as she hobbled out of the study and into the hall. A moment later, Nate and Dylan reached the top of the stairway, with Summer and Hope following on their heels. As soon as they had all stepped into the room, Hope pulled the string to switch off the cellar lightbulb, and Summer tried to slam the cellar door shut. The door wasn’t heavy enough to make much noise, so she tried to slam the corner bookcase next. But it made even less of an impact by rotating closed and concealing the cellar door just as silently as it had first opened and revealed it.
