Crowned and Moldering (24 page)

“That’s even better than plain old good work. That’s awesome work.”

I smiled at his accolades. “Thanks, Mac.”

“And now I have even more history and mystery to add to my article. This is amazing.”

And he doesn’t even know the true motive behind Lily’s death,
I thought. But he would. The truth about her pregnancy would have to be revealed
before long. Otherwise, a murderer would go free.

I spent the next day at the lighthouse mansion, where I continued to demolish Mac’s
kitchen. It felt darn good to be destroying things—in a constructive way, of course.

Carla joined in the fun and together we managed to pull out the heavy cast-iron sink
and set it outside the kitchen door. I’d hired a forklift to carry the heaviest stuff
over to the Dumpster a few dozen yards up the road. This sink, on the other hand,
would be taken directly to my truck. I planned to restore it and use it in another
lucky house—or, at the very least, I’d refashion it to use as a quirky planter in
my garden.

“Hey, Shannon,” Carla said, trying to get my attention over the hammering and pounding.

“Yeah.” I set down the sledgehammer and grabbed my water bottle. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about the dumbwaiter,” she said, and rapped her knuckles against
the old sliding door. “I think we’d be smart to go ahead and refurbish the internal
mechanisms, replace the tray, and make sure the trolley system is operating. And then
Mac can make his decision about the style of the outer frame any time he wants.”

I stared at the dumbwaiter wall. The shaft itself couldn’t be enlarged without damaging
the structural integrity of the wall, so Mac would have to live with the dumbwaiter
size as it was. And as far as I knew, the size was fine with him.

“Good idea,” I said, taking a long sip of water. “I’ll stop by the hardware store
tonight and order the parts we need.”

After that, I got caught up in the demolition until Carla reminded me that it was
quarter to four.

“Oh, shoot. I’ve got to run.” I put my tools away and grabbed my jacket and purse.
“See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good one, boss.”

“You, too.” I ran to my truck, drove over to the school, and parked, just as the digital
clock on the dashboard hit four o’clock. I jogged over to check out my guys’ work
on the parking lot while I waited for Callie.

I waved to Wade. “It’s starting to look better around here.”

“We’ve cleared most of the asphalt, as you can see.” He swiped his forehead with the
back of his hand. “Tomorrow the geotech team will be back to test the subsurface and
make sure the conditions of the soil deep beneath the asphalt are stable and good
to go.”

The geotechnical engineers were an important part of the whole picture. They’d already
determined there were no soil issues around the perimeter, and now they would decide
if the soil under the existing site would play nicely with the aggregate layer the
company planned to lay down. That layer would be followed by the asphalt base layer
and finally the asphalt surface layer. If it wasn’t compatible—if there was, say,
too much clay or too much iron—they would add more of some other mineral until everything
was copacetic.

It was a complicated process and I didn’t pretend to know exactly how they came up
with their formulations. I was just glad they were paying attention.

“I’d hate to sink that water tank into the earth,” I said, “and find out later that
some corrosive element down there had eaten right through it.”

“Exactly,” Wade said. “The SolarLight people won’t let that happen.”

“They are a really smart bunch,” I said.

“Yeah. I hope we can work with them again.”

I smiled. “If Ms. Barney has her way, the school board will eventually turn all the
parking lots solar and probably some of the outside lunch areas.”

“I like it,” he said, grinning.

My phone buzzed and I excused myself to check it. There was a text from Callie saying
that she would be a few minutes late. She was still talking to her homeroom teacher.

I glanced up at Wade. “I think I’ll walk over to the school and meet Callie.”

“I’ll get back to the cleanup, then. See you later, boss.”

I headed for the main building, hoping I’d run into Callie on the way. Then again,
if I made it as far as the classroom, I’d be able to say hello to Mr. Jones. I was
curious to find out how Denise was doing.

On the way, I thought about Cliff, still clinging to life in the hospital. What would
happen when he recovered? Would he go back to being a jerk or would he be chastened?
Everyone would know that he’d tried to blackmail Denise, who was a beloved lifelong
resident of Lighthouse Cove. How would he be able to face anyone? Never mind; I knew
the answer. He would bluster and lie his way through, because that was what he’d been
doing since high school.

By the time he’d finished, Cliff would have Denise looking like some chainsaw-wielding
serial killer from a B movie.

And thinking of Cliff made me wonder for the umpteenth time why or what, exactly,
he’d been trying to blackmail Denise over.

I didn’t run into Callie out on the walkway, so I kept going to Mr. Jones’s homeroom
class. The door was closed, so I peeked inside through the reinforced-glass square.
Mr. Jones sat at his desk in the front of the room and Callie stood talking to him.

She looked so pretty in a simple blue sweater and jeans, with her long blond hair
worn in a single braid down her back. Mr. Jones, as always, was sweet and handsome
and interested in whatever she had to say. But I was most struck by the look on Callie’s
face. If I had to put a name to it, I’d call it adoration.

Strange, but I was almost afraid to interrupt their conversation. I went ahead, though,
and knocked on the door and walked inside. “Hi, you two.”

“Hello, Shannon,” Mr. Jones said.

“Hi, Mr. Jones.” I gazed at Callie. “Are you ready to go, Callie?”

She winced. “Shannon, I’m so sorry. I should’ve texted you again. I’m going to stay
for rehearsals and hang out with Sarah for a while. Uncle Mac said he’d pick me up
in a few hours. Do you mind?”

“Not a bit,” I assured her, then turned to Mr. Jones. “I hope Denise is feeling better.”

“She is, and she so appreciates your thoughtfulness.”

“I’m glad.” I smiled, feeling oddly awkward. I wasn’t sure what it was that made this
moment feel a little peculiar. It wasn’t just seeing the way Callie was looking at
him. It was more than that. But since I couldn’t put my finger on it, I just took
a deep breath and let it go. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you both later.”

They waved, and I turned to leave the classroom just in time to see Dismal Dain standing
across the hall, staring straight into the classroom at Mr. Jones. Or was he looking
at Callie? He wore an ugly glower, and it didn’t matter which of them he was looking
at. Either way, it wasn’t a good thing. Dain’s mouth was sullen and his eyes were
dulled by bitterness. Maybe it was my imagination, but he looked a lot like one of
those rats he was so fond of.

I glared back at him. There was no way I would allow that spooky excuse for a counselor
to stare at Mac’s niece with such animosity. And I was worried for Mr. Jones, too.
I wondered if Dain made a habit of staring at Mr. Jones like that. Finally Dain gave
a scornful sniff and skulked off, leaving me to wonder what was wrong with his mind.

Was he jealous that the students liked Mr. Jones? I certainly hoped he didn’t intend
to “counsel” Callie anytime soon.

I glanced back and realized that Mr. Jones and Callie hadn’t even noticed Dismal was
watching them. Brad Jones was so in tune with his students, but I wondered if he had
ever noticed the counselor staring at him from across the hall.

By the time I got to my truck, I was feeling antsy and out of sorts and not ready
to call it a day. I was worried about Callie because of that look I’d seen on Dismal’s
face. The man was like a cautionary tale about the scary neighbor down the street
whose house was always dark and whose yard was covered in dead plants and trees. Your
parents always warned you not to venture too close. . . .

And there went my imagination again. But, honestly, how creepy was it that he was
standing there glaring at Mr. Jones and Callie? Very creepy, indeed! High school seemed
to be even more of a soap opera than I remembered. As for Dismal, it was hard to shake
off the miasma that seemed to follow him around like a dark cloud and envelop everyone
else in the vicinity.

I stopped at a red light and glanced over at the passenger’s seat. There was my tablet
with my list of things to do. And that reminded me of the one thing I hadn’t done.
I’d promised Carla I’d order supplies for the dumbwaiter tonight, but I’d completely
forgotten to get the measurements I needed.

I made a U-turn and drove the short distance out to the lighthouse mansion. Despite
its many twists and turns and wide curves, the three-mile drive north relaxed me and
took my mind off of all the people who had been in my face lately. Like Mr. Dain and
Cliff and Whitney. Although, to be fair, I had been in Cliff’s face as much or more
than he’d been in mine, only because he seemed just as happy to stab you in the back
as face you head-on.

Since I was wearing my Bluetooth, I gave Mac a quick call to let him know I’d seen
Callie briefly. I didn’t mention Dismal Dain’s odd presence in the hall.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m driving out to the mansion to get a few measurements. Then I’m stopping at the
hardware store to pick up some things.”

“Any chance we can have dinner together later? I had a craving for pasta, and the
red sauce is cooking as we speak.”

“I am very fond of red sauce, as you know.”

I could almost hear him grinning over the phone. “And I’m very fond of you.”

“Oh.” I was surprised and happy and bashful all of a sudden. “Well, likewise.”

He chuckled and the sound was amazingly intimate. “Be careful out there, Irish. Hurry
home.”

“Okay.” I disconnected the call and sighed. Maybe when Callie went back home, he and
I could take up where we’d left off. Wherever that was.

I turned onto Old Lighthouse Road and bumped along over the potholes and cracks for
a quarter of a mile until I reached the big house at the end of the road. There were
still a few cars parked over by the massive, towering lighthouse, so I figured it
was still open for business a while longer. Perhaps some tourists were up at the top,
enjoying the sunset. I envied them.

Standing outside of my truck, I breathed the sea air and let my gaze sweep across
the water. A few sailboats skimmed the surface, but the water was turning choppy,
with white froth slapping into the air. I heard the waves pounding at the rocks beyond
the lighthouse and it sounded like a heartbeat, with its comforting, steady rhythm.

For some reason, the air here felt cleaner than in town, even though my house was
only a few blocks from the shore. Maybe it was the fact that there were no stores
and streets in the way. Out here, there was nothing standing between me and the immense
ocean.

I crossed the wide, scruffy lawn and unlocked the door. It was getting dark, and I
flipped on a few lights as I made my way back to the kitchen to examine the dumbwaiter.
The counters were gone, so I set my tablet and purse on the floor and pulled out my
pocket tape measure.

As I measured the space and made a list of the hardware we would have to replace,
I was careful not to look down into the basement below. It still gave me chills to
think of Lily’s bones lying there. Instead I forced myself to study and admire the
interior design of the dumbwaiter. I loved quirky Victorian contraptions like those,
and Mac’s mansion was filled with them. I was determined to renovate this house so
beautifully that Mac would never connect death and murder to his new home.

Being Mac, though, he would clearly relish those very things I was trying to gloss
over.

I leaned farther into the dumbwaiter shaft to measure the panel on the far side of
the opening. I froze when I thought I heard something.

I pulled my head out of the chamber and the sound disappeared. I wondered if I had
imagined it.

I stuck my head back inside the shaft and heard it again. Something was scraping against
an interior wall of the house. Was it being amplified inside the dumbwaiter?

“Oh, God.” I pulled out and stood up straight. I couldn’t hear anything out here,
so I poked my head back into the dumbwaiter shaft and heard it again.

Darn it, why had I come back here alone? Why weren’t any of my crew working late today?
I was suddenly leery of being in a place I’d known my whole life. And I didn’t like
the feeling.

Had a new family of rodents moved into the house? I trembled at the thought. Then
again, maybe it was only a tree branch brushing against the outside wall or the roof.

I stood up straight and tried very carefully to hear the sound again. But there was
nothing. I heard it only inside the dumbwaiter, so I stuck my head inside the thing
again. And now I could hear the distinct murmur of a human voice.

I wasn’t alone in the house.

More shivers flitted and leaped over every inch of my skin, covering me from the top
of my head to my ankles. Truly, I could feel my ankles shaking. I had chills on top
of the shivers, and now I had a choice of running screaming out of there or investigating
whoever else was inside Mac’s house with me.

If anyone had been watching me, I knew what they’d be thinking: I could also call
the police. But if I dragged Eric out here for nothing, I’d look crazier than he already
thought I was.

But if I didn’t drag Eric out here and something happened . . .

I compromised and sent a text to let him know where I was and that I was checking
out some odd noises. He could make the next move.

I had already run screaming out of the house once before when I saw that tiny rat
a while ago, so call me cuckoo, but I was determined not to leave until I found out
what was going on. I wasn’t sure if the noises had come from upstairs or from the
basement, but I felt safer checking upstairs first.

I tiptoed across the foyer and quietly climbed the stairs, unsure if the talking had
come from the second floor or the attic.
It had to be the second floor,
I reasoned, because I really didn’t want to go all the way up to the attic. That
made a perfect kind of sense to me.
Didn’t it?